Resident Evil: Chronicles of the Saga
by UN-4-Seen Scholar
Summary: The novilization of the entire Resident Evil timeline. From the discovery of the Progenitor to beyond the fall of Umbrella. Read and review please my first fan fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Resident Evil: Umbrella Chronicles**

Author's acknowledgment

First of all, I would like to apologize to the writers from for any account of plagiarism. My intent was never to copy the writings of others but to get ideas and inspirations to write my own novels. So you can consider this as my tribute to them. To the best Resident Evil authors:

Lord Leachim:- for the gripping 'Legends' series.

Hustler One:- for the 'Forever' story, one of the greatest Jill/Chris stories ever.

Bad Ass MF:- for sticking with all the official romantic relationships on Resident Evil.

Striker:- for the 'Armageddon' series and his romance tale 'Story of Us'.

Christie Redfield:- for the stories 'Snowy Weather', 'Heart of a soldier', 'My last escape' and 'After the gunfire rang out'.

And last but not least, Arithenay:- for the incredible 'Wavering' series.

Secondly, I apologize for any mistakes in scientific experiments and knowledge that I have written in this. I was only trying to write what I thought was appropriate for the scenes.

Finally, the reason I did this was because I just wanted to write my own version of my favorite game, going through the entire storyline (even the gaps in between), relationships (love or otherwise) between the characters and everything you would encounter in this game series.

If you like it, carry on reading and enjoy. If you don't, doesn't matter, you are entitled to (and I shall respect) your opinions.

Also, and this is important, I don't own Resident Evil. I am just a fan with a knack and passion for writing.

Prologue

The international pharmaceutical corporation, Umbrella. It has earned many reputations over the years; in 1970 onwards, it was well-respected and thought highly of by every living person on the globe. In 1998, it was seen as a creator of monstrous abominations, twisted scientists, horrid plagues and insatiable greed that threatened the entire human race. And now, in 2007, it has become a name to fear, a name that strikes terror to even the strongest of people. The reasons for this are horrific and insane in any proportions that humanity could ever think; it was responsible for the deaths of millions of lives, destroyed the bounds of reality and fantasy, and almost brought about the destruction of the entire human race.

This is the collection of records depicting the existence of Umbrella, its inner machinations, its rise and prosperity, its fall and its resurrection. This holds the information about the corporation responsible for the millions of deaths on our world and those who destroyed them.

These are the 'Umbrella Chronicles'.

**The New Age**

One

It had all started in an (as of yet) undisclosed location, during a dark era between the end of World War II and the beginning of the Cold War. In a secret lab, somewhere (we believe) in the U.S., three men, one a scientist and the other two distinguished noblemen, were conducting tests on samples of unidentified micro-organisms. The men were called Dr James Marcus, Lord Oswell E. Spencer and Lord Edward Ashford.

Dr Marcus was a distinguished micro-biologist, virologist, and chemist. He had been born some time in 1922 with a very high intellect and a dedicated resolve to his work on science and genetics. He had graduated from university 2 months before the start of WWII and had worked in the profession of medical science until 1945, when he had become friends with Lords Spencer and Ashford, and became their work colleague. His intentions in working with them was to discover something to fully dedicate his attention and intellect to work on.

Lord Edward Ashford had been born from one of the first and finest aristocratic families of the age. The Ashford family had been first recognized as one of the finest in 1840 thanks to the intelligence and beauty of their ancestor Veronica Ashford. The family line of honor and dignity had been past down through the entire family tree starting from Veronica's son, Stanley Ashford. Then, it passed to Thomas Ashford and afterwards to his twin brother Arthur. Now the responsibility rested on Edward and when he died, it would go to his son Alexander. His reasons in this work were simple, to maintain the honor, dignity and glory of the Ashford legacy.

Lord Oswell E. Spencer was the leader of the three, the business man and bureaucrat of the group. His family were one of the most distinguished in Great Britain and he was, quite possibly, the most powerful individual on the planet. His reasons were more mysterious than the others, no-one knew why he opted for this research and still no-one has ever found out.

The day had been sluggish and had yielded no results. This didn't do anything to put Spencer in a good mood. The research on these samples was to acquire an ideal micro-biological substance to focus their work. They had traveled to dozens of places throughout and found several samples of bacteria they had wanted. However, despite whatever steps they had taken to working on the samples, no results or further developments had occurred and it was eroding Spencer's patience. Quite badly.

"Why is this taking so long!?" he yelled, slamming his hands on the lab table. "I have given you all the funding you need. I have provided you with the technology you require. And I haven't received any results to pay for everything I have given to you!"

Marcus reeled back from Spencer's outburst while Edward continued to stare at something down the lens of a microscope.

"W-We just need a little more time, that's all. I-it...it doesn't take five minutes for us to find anything. Just give us more," Marcus stammered, shaking nervously.

"I have given you enough time," Spencer stated, tapping his fingers on the table. "I expect results by the end of the week."

Whatever Marcus was about to say was interrupted by Edward waving his arms, calling them over. They walked over to Edward as he looked up from the microscope.

"Look at this, look at this!!" he yelled ecstatically.

Marcus looked in first and after a few moments, he looks up and mutters something incoherent. Spencer the looks and is surprised by what he sees; the cells under the lens were modifying the human genes on the slab, the structure of the cells indicated that it was a virus, but its genetic coding was different from anything they had ever seen and it merged with the human genes, modifying and mutating them into something.

Spencer looks up, smiling and his eyes glinting with anticipation.

"Gentlemen, we have, as Neil Armstrong has said, taken one giant leap for mankind," he stated firmly.

Marcus was excited beyond belief, his hands constantly fidgeting and his feet tapping on the floor expectantly.

"I wish to continue to examine this virus, I should be able to make something new with this. I can get you the results you need!!"

Edward Ashford nods. "Yes, we can study the properties of the virus and find something that can revolutionize the methods of biological warfare."

Spencer picks up his cane and walks towards the door. He didn't need the cane, he could walk and run fine, it was just an addition to his authoritarian image amongst his group. "If that is your wish. I shall provide both of you with the money and technology you will need for your research. As for me, I best start making plans for our future. If we are to continue this research, new facilities must be built, precautions taken, new staff hired, more advanced technology needed, funding will need to be required through different methods and it MUST be kept out of public knowledge. Understood?"

Both men nodded and quickly got back to work. As Spencer walked out of the lab to the local airfield and boarded his private jet, he began to think over his plans. But he knew this was the first stepping stone to something far greater, the birth of a new power and that was this virus had brought to world. He would have to proceed carefully, this could fall into anyone else's hands. This new virus would stay with him. He had already thought of name to call this creator, to commemorate its starting of their research and the new power he would possess from it. He would call it after the very peer that brought creatures into this world, that raised to its liking and their full potential. It would accomplish just that for their research. He christened it 'The Mother Virus'...

2 years had passed from that day. But that didn't make any difference to Spencer, 1961 was just another year for him to carry on, just another new chapter started in his life. Over the years and months that had passed, he had already taken steps for their research. He had already begun to hire his own personal army and security force to maintain order and keep the work secret; he hired men and women from any of the corners of the globe, and had them trained at a secret Russian military compound owned by one of his trusted compatriots Colonel Sergei Vladmir, using its military facilities to train up soldiers that were highly-skilled, mentally capable and fiercely loyal to his commands.

He had also kept up with the progress of Edward and Marcus' research. He pulled out a manila envelope, opened it up, pulled out the file, put on his glasses and began to read; he had read the file many times over but wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Apparently, Edward and Marcus had finished analyzing the properties of the 'Mother Virus' and were now seeing if they could create a successful variant of it, which would have the ability to recombine a living organism's DNA. It didn't really matter to him, just as long as he could gain something out of it.

He leaned back in his chair, his mind becoming wrapped with thought. He knew that a new, more adaptable, facility would have, no _need_, to be constructed but he would have to disguise it, and, of course, booby-trap it to protect it from intruders.

_But how? How can I make a facility large enough to house the lab and the employees needed, and booby-trap it without anyone knowing? How?_

The location would have to be secluded, somewhere they wouldn't attract unwanted attention as they started to expand on their research. Somewhere they can integrate themselves into fully in the politics, law and economy. To make the area so dependent on them that they wouldn't be suspected. Suddenly, it came to him in a flash. He would have a mansion constructed, his own personal estate, secluded from the public, equipped with all the expected luxuries yet wired with traps to catch those who should intrude. And he had selected the perfect place, in the mountains outside of his hometown, Raccoon City, in the Mid-West; in fact, it would be a good idea to have that area as the primary staging ground for the research until he was ready to expand to other areas. Plus, it would fit well with his plans of establishing an alternate identity for his work to hide its true nature, because with the money and power he had, he could embed himself in the community, making the city completely dependent upon him and pull an unfading shroud of faith over their eyes so they either wouldn't have any choice but to accept the lies or would be too far-believing to notice the truth.

He picked up the newspaper on his desk and cycled through it. He needed to find someone with the talents and availability to work on building his estate. He continued to browse through the paper, taking a brief at an article that said Raccoon City was hiring outside workers to help build the cable car and electrical systems; finally, he found what he was looking for, an article that read 'Genius George Trevor Does It Again' and talked about his accomplishments on building newly designed skyscrapers in New York. Spencer picked up the phone and dialed the number that was printed in the newspaper; the phone rang three times before someone answered.

"Hello?" asked a chirpy female voice.

"This is Lord Spencer. I have a job for Mr Trevor."

"I'm sorry. He is currently away on business for another client. Would you care to leave a message?"

"Yes. Please inform him that as soon as he's finished working for his current client that I wish for him to construct an exclusive mansion for myself in the woods outside Raccoon City. Tell him that he is to follow the western logging trail leading from the city and head to the base of the mountains. Is that clear?"

He heard the sound of a pencil writing on paper before the reply came. "Yes sir, I shall pass along the message. Good day to you, Lord Spencer."

"Good day to you as well, my dear," he replied before hanging up.

He turned to the windows in his office, gazed at the setting sun and smirked. Everything was proceeding according to his plans...

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	2. Chapter 2

Two

Raccoon City. A small peaceful Mid-Western community surrounded by nature. It wasn't a large town to be sure, as it was beginning to expand its economy. It was the place where people who grew tired of the larger city life in places such as New York, L.A. or Las Vegas would go for a quiet vacation, away from big city activities to a more peaceful setting. The people there were either contented with their lives, going about their daily routines or they were hard at work. One such person who was hard at work, or would be soon, was driving through a logging trail from the western edge of the Arklay mountains.

The man was in his early-thirties, slick-backed brown hair, clean shaved face, brown eyes, firm stock features with the build of an accountant. He was a blue business suit, with a white shirt, green tie tied tightly around his neck and polished black suede shoes; he eyed his reflection in the mirror critically and went back to focusing on his driving across the bumpy dirt road. George Trevor had to look his best in front of Lord Spencer, especially since he had heard a lot of the Spencer family over his years in the architectural profession; he had arrived at Latham National Airport at noon and had rented a black Corvette from a garage, and had drove into Raccoon City, stopping to ask for directions if needed, and was now heading into the forest to meet Lord Spencer to discuss their business transactions. He had finished designing an apartment complex in Spain, had taken a few months to spend some time with his wife Jessica and his daughter Lisa.

_The most adorable and majestic people I have ever had the honor of caring for..._

He had first met Jessica at Cambridge University. He was studying architecture, graphics, and art and design for his dream career and receiving top grades, and heaps of praise from students and teachers alike. Until one day, he had been down one of the many corridors to his next class and had bumped into her after turning a corner in the hall, causing her to spill her drink down the front of her uniform. All the students in the hall laughed at her and she had ran off in tears, completely embarrassed by the whole affair; feeling guilty, he had followed her to the girl's changing room and, unfortunately for himself as any other guys would take it as a blessing, had caught a sight of her in just a white bra and panties as she was changing into a spare uniform. Luckily, no other girls were using the changing rooms, which saved him further embarrassment, and whilst blushing furiously, as she was, he turned around to let her get changed.

As a way of apologizing for the incident, he invited her out for lunch, which she accepted; they had their first heart-to-heart then and had soon started to fall in love with each other. They kept seeing each other secretly after that, until after graduation, they had to leave each other behind to go their separate ways for their careers and that had been the hardest day of his life. He had joined a very famous architectural organization and exceeded well in his business with them and he had met Jessica again, when they had merged with the Design Arts organization that Jessica had joined. After spending years together, he popped the question to marry her, which she readily accepted.

And after a few years living in a nice suburban home in New York, she had become pregnant with Lisa and that was the time he realized he was blessed. Now, 14 years later, he had a famous reputation, was earning a large income and living with two of the most important things in his life.

He soon came to a metal-link fence on the trail with a sliding gate blocking the road, a small security booth on the left side on the gate and two men by the gate, one in the booth and the other was walking over to him. The guard tapped on his window for him to lower his window; the guard was an African-American woman with her dark hair reaching to her shoulders, cold dark brown eye glared at him. She was wearing a black shirt, black trousers, a black bullet-proof vest and black combat boots, with a pistol stuck in her belt-holster and a machine gun slung over her shoulder by the strap. She leaned in the car window.

"Name. Identification. Reason of visit. Possible confirmation," she in order with a cold, harsh tone."

Trevor pulled out his wallet and handed his driver's license. "My name's George Trevor. I am here to see Lord Spencer about a business transaction. He wants me to build him a mansion estate here in this area."

The female guard took his license then went over to the booth. She spoke with the other guard for some time, then went to work on the computer, to check his license most likely, while the other guard started using the phone. Five minutes later, the female guard came back and gave him his license back.

"Everything checks out. You're clear for entry," she stated. She walked back a few paces and ushered him forward. "Move along."

Trevor drove his car through the open gate and continued down the road whilst the gate slid shut behind him.

He drove down for another fifteen minutes until he came to a large clearing amongst the trees, at the base of the mountains. People in worker clothes were walking around, placing the materials in tidy piles, marking out the area or guiding iin large flat-bed trucks carrying materials. He stepped out of his car and walked towards a large white tent put up out of the area on the western edge of the clearing; he stepped through the flap and entered inside. Inside were two tables, one had on it a shotgun, pistol, machine gun and a radio while the other had maps, plans and schematics scattered over the top.

There were two men inside the tent. One was a man about 7'1'', with a large muscular frame, a black goatee and crew cut, cold gray eyes and was wearing jungle-camouflage clothing. He had the two golden-bar insignia that marked him with the rank of 2nd lieutenant and was, most likely, the man in charge of the soldiers. The other man was in his mid-fifties, with flowing black hair that had started to gray; he was about 6'4'', with dark hazel eyes and was dressed in a black business suit, black loafers, red tie, white shirt and he carried an oaken-wood cane with a silver snake head on the top. He looked up and beamed at Trevor.

"Ah, the famous George Trevor! I trust your journey went quite well. Please, where are my manners?" He extended his hand, which Trevor shook. "I am Lord Oswell Edmund Spencer. The lieutenant here is my most trusted soldier, Ronald McVarian."

The lieutenant just nodded at Trevor.

Spencer brought Trevor over to the table with the plans and showed him the schematics.

"Now, down to business. These are the plans of the mansion I wish for you to build, worked down to the last detail. Also," Spencer looked around to make sure no-one was listening before speaking in a low whisper, "there will be some added designs that will only be known between you and I. I do hope you understand that Mr Trevor."

Trevor was only paying attention with a half ear as he was in awe of the designs that the schematics were unveiling to him. This would be the most incredible building he will ever create and he didn't care how long it would take to build, and Spencer probably shared the same thoughts, he would accomplish it.

_And I could show it to my family._

That would be the greatest experience of his life. To share his most spectacular accomplishment with the most beloved people in his life.

"Lord Spencer, I will complete this mansion to you speculations and designs, although I estimate that it will take about 5 years to finish the construction," he explained, hoping that Spencer will still allow him to continue the project.

Spencer smiled. "Take all the time you wish. The workers here will co-operate with your every wish and command, and the security will make sure they stay in line."

Trevor could barely contain the excitement he felt at being given the chance to construct this architectural masterpiece.

"Thank you sir. You shall not regret this!!" he exclaimed.

_The greatest masterpiece of my career._

His face cracked into a wide smile as he went outside to start the construction...

December 4th 1966. 4 years after Spencer had put his plans into motion with the construction of his estate, and 5 years after Marcus and Edward had begun their work on creating a variant of the 'Mother Virus'. Their progress had been slow and the work had been exhausting but they finally achieved what they had set out to do. Spencer walked through the small laboratory until he found where Edward and Marcus were working, both hunched over a single desk, looking down several microscopes and constantly making notes. Edward looked up and waved his arm enthusiastically for Spencer to come over.

"Look at each of these slides. We've managed to find the variant we were looking for!" he shouted, ecstatically.

Spencer looked down each lens of the microscope at all the different genetic codings of the samples...and watched in amazement as the variant virus actually began to break apart the samples and reform them in a different sequence! Where as the 'Mother Virus' had only modified the genes slightly, this new virus had completely reform the DNA coding, making a newly-enhanced specimen.

Spencer looked up and smiled the widest smile he ever had in his life. This was what he was hoping for, the key to a new age, the next step in biological warfare and something that could reshape the human race for years to come! He turned to his colleagues.

"Well done gentlemen. We have made a new step."

Marcus immediately came forward.

"I wish to study this variant. Please!! I-I...I can make something truly spectacular with this variant!! Just let me have permission to study it!!" he begged.

Spencer thought Marcus was trying too hard to get his hands on the new virus but dismissed the thought and just nodded in response.

"Very well, James. You have my permission to work on-"

"Progenitor," Edward cut in.

Both men turned to look at him.

"I came up with the name 'Progenitor', I thought it suited it rather well," he explained.

For some reason Spencer couldn't place, the name seemed appropriate for the virus.

"Alright, Edward, I'll need your help in trying to establish our cover-identity to hide our research. Marcus, you carry on with the work."

And with that, he left the room, Edward Ashford following close behind. Spencer had already modified his plans to fit with this new development, knowing that some preliminary tests will have to be carried out to make sure the virus was compatible for use; he had taken two samples and had them safely tucked away in his breast pocket, completely undamaged. It was incredibly risk-taking to be carrying samples of a volatile virus on his person, but one of Spencer's greatest personality traits was his confidence and he was certainly confident that the samples were safe with him. At first, he had some trouble selecting any test subjects to experiment the efficiency of the virus on, but that was quickly resolved by making a solution to a growing anomaly.

_I think the Trevors can repay for the materials needed in their work on my estate by becoming the test subjects I need for my work._

He had been worried that if he allowed Trevor to live, he would blab out the secret traps he had built in the mansion (which he had acquired the ideas from his obsession of spy movies) and thus the mansion's security would be compromised, but now he had found to kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.

When Edward and himself had boarded the airplane, they had begun making discussions over how they would form their cover-identity to mask their research as the plane took off from the airstrip and flew off down the horizon...


	3. Chapter 3

Three

Nothing special had happened over the years until 1967, when the Spencer Mansion had finally been constructed. This worked well for Spencer because he could now move into his mansion and supervise the experiments going on in the labs. It was the beginning of August, the summer sun beginning to disappear over the horizon and leaving the darkness to conquer the skies as the mansion in Raccoon Forest was the site of much activity. He stood in the main hall with Edward Ashford and his son Alexander, who was staring around the main hall with an expression of wonder and awe plastered on his face, watching his security force either bringing in all his belongings for when he moved in or escorting the research staff to the lab complex underground. Edward cleared his throat.

"Have you given any thought on how we are to cover up this research and on how we are acquire the funds for these experiments without casting too much suspicion?" he asked.

Spencer nodded. "Of course. We are going to make a pharmaceutical company." He couldn't help but smile at the irony of this statement; they were to make medicines and cures to help people as their cover identity while in actuality, they were performing the opposite by working on biological weapons to devastate whole cities.

Edward nodded after a few moments of silence. "Sounds reasonable. We could have some of the staff focus on creating medicine whilst the rest work on Progenitor. Have you informed Marcus of this transaction?"

Spencer nodded, his face creasing into a deep frown. When he had informed Marcus of his plans, he didn't seem to care very much about that and carried on working with the Progenitor; Spencer would have to watch him, people like Marcus always put their work before anything else and didn't care what they destroyed and/or ruined in the progress. If Marcus were to do that, he would become a liability and have to be disposed off.

"We shall discuss this later in private," he said to Edward before he shouted, "McVarian!!"

The burly lieutenant approached them, snapping to attention and offering a salute.

"At ease, McVarian."

The lieutenant stood at ease.

"I want you to show Master Alexander Ashford around my estate, give him a full tour," he instructed. He turned to Alexander. "Will you be alright with the lieutenant?"

Alexander snapped out of his daze and nodded. "Yes, Lord Spencer. And may I say what a marvelous estate you have, particularly this hall. It's breathtakingly spectacular."

Spencer smiled at Alexander and the boy smiled back before being led off by the lieutenant to be shown around the mansion. Spencer and Ashford walked up the staircase to the double doors on the left side of the second floor balcony and stepped through onto the balcony overlooking the dining room and headed through the single door on the right side of the room at the other end; they walked around the staircase and entered the door on the left into the office.

Spencer sat in one of the armchairs with Ashford sitting opposite him. Spencer folded his arms across his chest.

"All right. Now, we need to establish a cover-identity for us to gain the funds, technology and staff we require to work on Progenitor without drawing suspicion to our cause," he asked.

Ashford began chuckling to himself, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

"The humor in the irony to our true work is quite obvious. Your idea to make a pharmaceutical company is brilliant! We can use half the technology, staff and money to make cures, serums and drugs to give to the general public and the rest can work on Progenitor. It would make us so well-respected that if anyone did find out, it would be so contradictory that no-one will believe it."

Spencer smiled at the irony, simplicity and capability this plan had. All the technology, money and staff would literally be supplied to them for the complete opposite reasons and they could continue unimpeded for months. He and Ashford had the power to make this work and could make everything run smoothly for both sides of their work.

Ashford was pleased at Spencer's reaction. "I see that this pleases you Oswell, as it does for also," he stated, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Have you informed Marcus of our plans?"

The smile disappeared from Spencer's face as he answered.

"Yes, I did. I told him we were establishing a company to mask our research, although he has yet to receive any specifics."

_Not that he would care about it._

If Marcus gave too much time into his work and ignored the bigger picture, one day he may finally end up either insane or dead.

_In his case it would have to be both._

Spencer returned his thoughts back to their company, what it would be called, something to really begin the legacy. A company that could show the true nature of its ordeals and a name that would fit well with its nature, a name that would be remembered in history.

Suddenly, it all came to him in a flash! A symbol flashed and embedded itself in his mind, an octagon made by eight segments, the colors of red and white formed in perfect unison; the red would symbolize their false intents, the symbol of medical science, making cures to help the sick. And the white would symbolize the shroud, the mist over the world's eyes to hide their real work, to hide the Progenitor. And the name with it was just to perfect for it that he never registered the fact that his mouth said out loud what his brain was thinking,

"Umbrella"...

Time flew by for Marcus as he continued to work on the Progenitor; as far as he could remember the date was August 19th. Its marvels, its mysteries and all the power it kept hidden would soon be discovered if he just worked hard enough.

_Please open up to me. Please! I beg of you!_

But he knew no matter how hard he begged, he knew that working on it alone would only unlock its true potential. He kept his eyes fixed on the computer screen as the mass-spectrometer processed the sample of Progenitor he was working on. He had broke down the amino-acid chain in the Progenitor and combined each individual amino-acid molecule with many samples of red blood cells that he had acquired from Spencer; he was trying to classify what effects each part of the chain would have on the cells and from there, see if he could utilize to his experiments with the virus. He looked back over his shoulder at the cages with either mice, cats or dogs inside to be used; but those creatures were too unstable with the virus so he needed to find a way to slow the effects was he was able to isolate which cell caused each effect. How Spencer had located all the specimens was of no concern to him so long as he could continue his work on Progenitor. That was all that mattered.

The phone next to him started to ring. Marcus sighed in exasperation before he answered it.

"Hello?" he asked, suppressing the annoyance in his voice.

"Dr Marcus. This is Laura, Lord Spencer's secretary. Lord Spencer requests a moment of your time."

Marcus rubbed his eyes. He imagined what Spencer would want; all after the completion of his estate, Spencer began making expansions for his new company Umbrella. He said he was building a new training facility in the Arklay Mountains to train and educate future employees and he kept pestering Marcus to become the director of the facility.

_Sometimes, I'm amazed he helped us discover the Mother Virus._

Spencer never really was a scientist to begin with, he was a politician, through and through. And the Progenitor was just something to make him more money, which he could never see the full value of its potential, not like Marcus could.

Still, Spencer had to be obeyed because, although Marcus loathed to admit it, he needed him, his power and his wealth to continue his work with the Progenitor.

"Very well. Put him through," he finally answered.

There was a series of high-pitched whistling noises and a loud clicks before Spencer's voice came through,

"James. Good to know you are still around how is everything?" Spencer asked, in his oily tone.

"It'd be a lot better if I didn't get interrupted."

"Very well. I shall get to the point. I have come to propose the position of director of my new facility towards you. Consider it a reward for your hard work."

"Spencer, I already ga-"

"I am fully aware of your previous answer," he interrupted. "But, the position is very appropriate for you. This facility shall house some of the finest equipment here to study the Progenitor with the more permanent staff. It shall both of our purposes."

Normally, Marcus would have kept refusing just so he could continue working, that was what he wanted above everything else, to work on the Progenitor. It didn't matter what Spencer wanted or what decisions he made because all he wanted was to work on Progenitor. But what Spencer had said caught Marcus' attention. A facility with most of the greatest technology, more space, more equipment, more speed, more results. The equation of this proposal began to form in his mind, making him realize that this position could get him the answers he needed to unlock the Progenitor; this lab was too small, too inadequate for his research, making his work tiresome and slow-progressing, but Spencer was practically giving him everything he could need to work on the Progenitor and unlock its properties.

_Take the offer. Take it!! We can work on unlocking Progenitor's true purpose and Spencer will be constantly supplying us with what we need to continue the work!_ his mind begged him, and he found he agreed.

With his mind finally made up, thanks to the advantages displayed before him, he answered,

"Very well. I accept."...


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Months past and autumn came. It was October 9th in New York, the trees in Central Park beginning to become a mosaic of colors as the leaves fell from branches. The inhabitants of the city wore jackets, trousers and gloves to protect them from the chilling breezes, and others also carried umbrellas for when the sky would darken and the rain would fall. One inhabitant drove through the busy streets until he arrived at a small house on the Jersey side of the Hudson river.

He stepped out carrying a bouquet of flowers and walked up to the door; he wore his widest smile and prepared for his welcome home greeting. George Trevor had never forgotten the day he met Jessica and cherished it with every fiber of his being. He knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal his wife, standing there wearing a white nightgown and slippers, her brown hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, her face breaking into a wide smile.

"George, honey, you really shouldn't have bought those for me," she said, gesturing to the flowers.

He leaned up and kissed her gently on the lips. "Well, I couldn't remember the anniversary of our meeting AND forget the present, could I dear?" he asked sarcastically.

She smiled before moving out of his way to let him inside and taking the flowers from his hands. He hung up his coat on the rack before walking into the living room and collapsing on the sofa. His house comprised of a lounge to the right from the front door and a kitchen on the left. At the end of the hall was a set of stairs leading to the second floor, a bathroom at the end of the landing with a spare room on the left side, in front of the stairs; Lisa's room was further down on the same side with George and Jessica's room opposite that.

The lounge had a small, circular dining table with three chairs placed around it, a sofa and two recliners placed in a semi-circle in front of the television, with a coffee table in the center. He turned on the T.V. and watched some soap-opera as his wife placed the roses in a vase and sat next to him, a thin arm encircling his waist; he replied to this move by placing his arm around her shoulders. The two of them sat there, nothing else in the world except themselves until another figure came running down the stairs, into the lounge and leaped onto her father's lap; he smiled down at his daughter, adoring her cute little face, her blue eyes and beaming smile.

"How are you, daddy?" Lisa asked her father, still smiling.

He stroked her hair with his free hand. "Fine, Lisa, just fine. I am off work for quite some time so we can spend some rel quality time together."

Jessica looked over at him and smiled. "Why don't we take a walk in the park? Just the three of us," she suggested.

George was about to make his reply when he heard the _flap_ and _tap_ of the letterbox at the door, giving its dutiful response of telling its owner the arrival of the mail. He got up and walked to the front door where the pile of lay on the mat; he picked up the pile, six cards in total, and rummaged through them, reading the purpose and address quickly in his head.

_Bills, bills, letter from my parents. Have to read that later. Business letter. Business letter. Hello, what's this?_

He came to a letter with a crest seal and the handwriting in delicate strokes and curls. He opened it up, pulled out the letter and began to read the contents.

Dear Mr G. Trevor,

I trust this letter finds you and your family in reasonable health. I am writing to you to commemorate my gratitude towards your fine work in creating the splendid job you have performed on my estate in Raccoon Forest. I wish to fully express my full gratitude towards you by inviting you and your family to bask in the hospitality of my mansion. I am having a large banquet made in your honour and would humbly ask for you to join it. I understand if you should decline that you are a busy man with a reputation to uphold, but nevertheless, my offer shall still. I and my associates in Raccoon City eagerly await your reply.

Yours faithfully,

_Lord Oswell E. Spencer_

Lord Oswell E. Spencer.

George could barely resist the urge to jump up and down with glee. He had always wanted to take his family to see the work he had accomplished with the Spencer Estate and now, Spencer had kindly given him the chance.

_The greatest things in my life to see the greatest accomplishment in my life._

It was like a dream, a fantasy played out in his head but it was real, right in his hand. He could show his family his accomplishment and spend some real quality time being with his family inside the estate's luxuries. He walked into the living room wearing his widest smile, his wife sitting with his daughter in her lap, watching the cartoons channel. Jessica looked up at him.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked.

He held up the letter. "It seems that Lord Spencer was impressed with my work on the mansion. He was so impressed that he has invited all of us to come to a banquet at the mansion," he announced.

Jessica beamed and ran up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "That's wonderful news! I knew you could do it, dear."

Lisa walked up to them and hugged them both. "Does that mean we are going to live like kings and queens?" she asked innocently, big eyes staring at both of them.

George looked down at his daughter and smiled before patting her on the head. "Of course Lisa. I'm sure Mr Spencer wouldn't mind having you be the princess." He looked up at Jessica. "What say we leave tomorrow?"

She nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I'll go start packing." She started up the stairs, taking Lisa with her. "Come on, Lisa. Mummy needs your help."

George looked at his wife and daughter, remarking how lucky he was that he had them as his own before turning back to the rest of the letters. He opened them all and read through them, his stomach becoming a lead weight that threatened to bring him crashing down to Earth just like his happiness. His organisation needed him for some new client who wanted a luxury holiday home built on Miami Beach and was very impatient about getting it done; his agency tried to explain that he was unavailable and that they could get someone else to take care of the task, but he insisted upon having the famous George Trevor to do the design and oversee the construction.

"God dammit!" he cursed. All his chances of spending time with his family, showing them the marvels of the mansion and enjoying every second with them were shattered because of this pompous snob. The one time he could really feel like that he had experienced the best day of his life with his family was ruined by this client who couldn't wait.

_I hope Jessica will understand._

He sighed and went upstairs to find her and Lisa in their bedroom, packing all the clothes for the trip.

Jessica noticed the glum expression plastered on his face.

"Lisa, would you go start packing your stuff? Daddy and I need to talk."

Lisa nodded and scurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall until they stopped in her room. Jessica walked up to her husband and placed her hand delicately on his cheek.

"What's wrong honey?" she asked, caressing his cheek.

He held her other hand in both of his. "I have been called for important business. There is no way to change it and I can't come with you on this trip."

She smiled and gently kissed him. "Don't worry. You can come as soon as you can." She gestured to the pile of clothes on the bed. "Well, would you mind giving me a hand?" she asked.

Working together, it didn't take that long to finish packing everything. The family spent the rest of day eating their dinner and watching T.V., curled up with each other on the sofa; when night settled in the sky and stars twinkled like white spots on a black surface, they tucked Lisa in and went to their own room. They both now lay there, regarding each other in the little light cast from the bedside lamp.

Jessica stroked the back of her husband's neck. "You will come as soon as you can, right?" she asked.

George reached over and stroked her chin, before moving his hand down to her neck and finally stroking her breast, contained in a black bra.

"I'll get there as soon as I can, Jessica," he answered firmly.

She snuggled closer to him. "Good. My day wouldn't be perfect without the man I love."

He smiled. "In the name of Christ himself, how did I ever get someone like you?"

She returned the smile. "I was just wondering the same thing."

They both leaned closer to each other and went into a long passionate kiss, enjoying the fact that they were together and that they were destined for each other, forever as the way their vows at their wedding had proclaimed...

"Attention passengers, we will be landing at Ragithon international airport shortly. We hope you have enjoyed your flight. Please remain in your seats until the plane has come to a complete stop before disembarking. And before, please make sure your trays are placed in their proper position. Thank you. And have a nice day."

Jessica picked up her handbag and placed her romance novel inside it after the announcement had sounded over the intercom. She sighed and leaned back in her seat, Lisa playing with her doll next to her. The flight had been long and boring, barely anything to pre-occupy during the hours they had spent flying; there was no in-flight movie and Lisa was getting bored a lot with nothing to do, so Jessica had to get her daughter's doll and the book she was reading from their luggage in the overhead compartment. The trouble at the terminal was bad enough, what with it being heavily crowded, their flight having been delayed, and, mostly on Jessica's part, that George wasn't with them.

Furthermore, not every plane in every city went to Raccoon City, for it only starting to become recognised as it expanded, or in any of the cities nearby; therefore, they were forced to have to plan a long and complicated route throughout their journey, travelling by car, staying in hotels on their way through the cities until they came to Atlanta in Georgia, which was the only city that had plane flights to Ragithon, 20 miles away from Raccoon City. It was now November 10th and they had finally arrived at where they needed to go; George had to go on business and had promised them he'd arrive on the 13th, giving them all the time in the world. Jessica picked up her cell phone and typed in the number that had came in another letter delivered to them after George had sent a reply to the invitation.

_08670-555-2290_

The phone rang three times before there was an answer.

"Hello. How may I be of assistance?" a female voice asked.

"Who is this?" Jessica asked, wanting to make sure she had the right number.

"This is Lord Spencer's office number. This is his secretary speaking."

"Yes, this is Mrs Jessica Trevor. I wish to apologise to Lord Spencer about our late arrival and-"

"One second Mrs Trevor," the secretary interrupted. There was the sound of hushed tones engaged in conversation over the phone. "Excuse me Mrs Trevor, but Lord Spencer wishes to speak with you. One moment please."

There was a long silence before a male voice came through, the voice's tone was gentle and kind, but underneath it, there was an authoritative and aristocratic tone merged with it.

"Greetings Mrs Trevor. I trust your journey has been pleasant."

Jessica mentally prepared herself for any outburst that might come. From her experience with her husband's work before Lisa's birth, she knew that nobility or aristocracy wasn't a class of people you kept waiting, no matter what reasons, because they think the world revolves around them and that they should be obeyed on every little detail.

"I wish to apologise-" she began.

"Apologise, my dear?" he interrupted, sounding genuinely surprised. "You had trouble getting here. I am fully aware of the fact that Raccoon City has only begun to expand and upgrade before it can be fully recognised. So you had to find an alternate route. I understand perfectly, my dear."

Jessica felt a bit surprised by the fact that Lord Spencer wasn't making an outburst on failure of punctuality, but then again, Spencer knew full about the economical issues with Raccoon City and thus understood their late arrival.

"Thank you, Lord Spencer."

"Of course. Now, there is a limousine waiting for you outside. It had a red and white octagon symbol on the license plates, with three men watching over it. That will be your transport to my estate. I shall wait for you in the main hall with the reception."

With that, the line was cut.

The plane soon came to a landing. Jessica, holding Lisa's hand and carrying her purse, walked from the plane to the baggage conveyor where their bags would come. They continued to wait for their bags as other passengers grabbed their bags and went off to do what they had come here for, be it either business or vacation. Soon enough, their bags came through the flap, but several hands reached out and grabbed them off the carousel; Jessica whirled around to catch the person who was taking them, coming face-to-face with a man who was quite possibly the most tallest person she had ever seen. She remembered that her husband had told her about a large military commander who Lord Spencer had kept around with him as his personal bodyguard and manager of security, and she knew without any doubt this was him; huge, goatee, bald, hardened eyes and immense build that was barely contained in the black suit he was wearing.

She looked at the other men, all were wearing the same type of suit and each of them had a red-and-white octagon cut into segments, red then white going around in that order throughout the logo, pinned on their lapel. She had watched the news and was fully aware of the name behind the logo, 'Umbrella'.

"Mrs Trevor. Lord Spencer sent us as your escort to the estate," the lieutenant stated. He gestured with his arm for her to walk past. "Please step this way."

Jessica walked out of the terminal, keeping a firm grip on her daughter, with the men standing around her in a circle. The other people in the terminal stared at them and Jessica began to blush with embarrassment; from the badges on the men's uniforms and the way they circled around her as she walked, they would most likely assume that she was a higher-up of the soon-to-be formed Umbrella corporation or a woman of aristocratic descent on her way to meet the founders.

_I wish that could be true. I'm just another ordinary civilian._

She could barely remember the founders of Umbrella from the news broadcast; Spencer was easy to spot, her husband had described him as a man of immense height and with flowing white hair. She immediately recognised him as he spoke to the crowd and his authority over the others because of the fact he was the one who answered most of the media's questions; he said that they were now laying the foundations for the new company and were probably going to have it finished some time next year.

The other two were different from Spencer in some ways. One of them had greying-blonde hair and was slightly shorter than Spencer, he was supposed to be a descendant of the Ashford family, one of the world's first and finest, and the media had asked questions on the corporation's benefits for the family. The last one had near-complete white hair and looked as if he hadn't slept in days, he had avoided the media and looked as if he didn't want to be there at all; Spencer had made some introductions to the man, saying he was a Dr Marcus and a brilliant scientist, but his name didn't really register in her mind.

They exited and walked over to a black limo parked on the curb, the chauffeur standing outside the car, holding the door open; two other cars were parked nearby, one in front and one behind. Jessica and Lisa got in the limousine along with the lieutenant, while the other men got in the other cars. The chauffeur shut the door and got in the driver's seat, starting up the car and pulled away from the curb, following the car in front with the other car trailing behind. Lisa sat in her mother's lap, looking outside at the scenery, whilst Jessica stroked her hair idly, also absorbed by the scenery; the city was like a growing patch of buildings, desperately trying to reach the sky and touch the clouds.

People scurried about doing their business or families walked hand-in-hand with each other, enjoying the time they spent together. Jessica vaguely wished that George was there with her but the thought exited her mind as she became more enthralled to the natural scenery encircling the town. Whilst the city was a sprawling cluster of small buildings, large construction sites and people constantly walking through the streets, the forest and mountains surrounding it were an immense tide of endless trees with immense stone guardians protecting the borders. To her, this entire area was a pool of green surrounded by immovable rocks with a small island of civilisation nestled in the middle.

_Such a tranquil and peaceful place. Maybe we should move here sometime._

"Mummy?"

Jessica looked down at her daughter, who stared back at her with big, innocent eyes. "Yes, Lisa?" she asked, smiling.

"When Daddy gets here, can we go for a picnic in the woods? It's so beautiful around here. I want to play in the woods," she begged, barely hiding her excitement.

Before Jessica could reply, the lieutenant let out a slight chuckle. She looked at him. "What's so funny?"

"The carefree youth of a child. They wish to have any enjoyment they could find, unaware of any dangers they may be," he explained.

Jessica instinctively wrapped her arms tighter around her daughter. "Dangers, sir?" she asked, hiding the fear in her voice.

"It's very easy to get lost in these woods. Take a look outside. The woods stretch for miles in every direction until they either reach the edge of the Arklay River or the base of the mountains. We occasionly have a security team go missing on patrol, due to the immense length of the woods and that we have no good maps of the forest yet. Luckily, if you ever get lost, look for some lights; they'll either lead to the city, the free way or the estate, depending where you are," he explained, with a note of reassurance in his voice.

Jessica sighed. "Thank you, lieutenant."

He smiled. "You're welcome, Madame." He looked up as the cars stopped. "Ah, we are here."

The chauffeur came around and opened the door. The lieutenant held out his hand to assist Jessica out of the vehicle, which she took reluctantly; she climbed out the car and helped her daughter out of the car. Both looked up at the house in awe as the men lined up in front of the main doors.

The estate was a four-story large mansion stretching to the very edge of the clearing it stood in, a well kept lawn stretched all around the mansion, a wall stretching out from the left side of the house, which most likely led to a courtyard and a large plain wooden building that looked like an ordinary flat-block. As Jessica looked around at the marvel of her husband's work, Lisa laughed and ran at full speed to the open doors.

"Lisa!" Jessica called. "Come back here!"

She immediately ran after her daughter, passing the men in suits as they took out their luggage. She got to the doors as her daughter disappeared inside and then she heard a man grunt from something running into him, and the clatter of something falling to the floor. She ran up to the door to see her daughter sitting on the floor, rubbing her head, and an elderly man picking up his cane and holding out his hand to help Lisa up. Jessica in her breath sharply. It was Lord Spencer. She immediately helped up her daughter and gazed at Lord Spencer, fearing his reaction.

"I am so sorry, Lord Spencer. I...My daughter ran off before I could stop her and, sir, I must apologise for any inconvenience this has caused you," she said.

Lord Spencer brushed himself down before picking up his cane and turning to her. Strangely, he was smiling instead of looking angry.

"Don't trouble yourself my dear. Now," he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles gently. "May I be the first to welcome to my humble abode." he stated.

Jessica blushed. "Thank you sir."

Spencer pulled back and smiled. "Your husband did say you were beautiful but what he says doesn't come anywhere near to your radiance."

Jessica was sure her cheeks were bright red. Spencer looked down at Lisa as she was clasped on her mother, feeling shy and timid; he leaned down and smiled warmly.

"And you must be Elizabeth?"

"Lisa," she corrected. "Only my grandparents call me Elizabeth, sir."

He continued to smile as Lisa held onto her mother tighter. "Don't be afraid of me. I am no monster."

Lisa began to feel more relaxed, as her grip on her mother loosened. "I am sorry for running into you sir," she apologised.

"That's perfectly all right," Spencer replied. He looked up at Jessica. "If you wish to change for the banquet, the lieutenant will take you to a chamber and hand you some clothes. Dinner shall be ready at," he checked his watch, "8:30. Meet me back here when you are ready."

And with that, he walked through the double doors on the left side of the hall.

The lieutenant gestured for them to follow him and they started up the main stairs to the second floor, Jessica holding her daughter's hand, both of them caught in awe about the greatest work George Trevor had ever made. She suddenly remembered that she had bought an antique shotgun as a gift for Lord Spencer.

_I must remember to give it to him. Oh George, please hurry. We miss you._

She had no idea that she wouldn't be seeing her husband for some time because something far more sinister was now being set in motion and they were to play an important part in it...


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Spencer stood in front of the full-dress mirror, putting on his red tie and regarding the rest of his attire in the mirror. He wore a black suit with a black blazer, white buttoned-up and freshly ironed shirt, black suede shoes, white gloves and gold cuff links embroiled with his family coat-of-arms. He had to make himself look practical for the meal for being the founder of the new Umbrella corporation and owner of this estate meant he had to show he could run the company, and that he was the true authority over everything associated with the company.

"Laura!" he called, bringing his tie to his neck. Laura, his secretary, entered the room. She was wearing a dark red blazer with matching knee-length skirt, a blue shirt and a emerald necklace around her neck, her green eyes hidden behind thin wire-framed glasses and her ginger hair tied up in a tight bun at the back of her head.

"Yes, Mister Spencer?" she asked, her hands folded behind her back.

Spencer held out his hand. "Would you be so kind as to hand me that phone?" he asked. Laura went over to his desk and picked up the cordless phone off the hook, handing it to Spencer. Spencer typed in a few buttons and the phone started to ring; it rang four times before there was an answer.

"Hello?" a male voice asked.

Spencer, having met all the scientists currently working at the lab, recognised this voice. "Dr Sarton, this is Lord Spencer. Is everything completed?"

"Yes sir. The labs are fully complete. We have all the equipment set up and the generators are working at optimum efficiency."

"Are you and the other scientists ready?"

"Yes sir. Dr Crackhorn and I will be supervising the experiment."

Spencer knew they had a very limited amount of qualified and competent science personnel in the company, whilst their security and military personnel were growing astronomically. They had taken to hiring convicted war criminals and mercenaries who could be paid well and remain fiercely loyal to the company; Colonel Sergei Vladimir, one of Spencer's most trusted friends and former member of the Soviet Union, was one such person.

Spencer knew that when Umbrella was created, Vladimir would make an excellent addition to the fold. If anyone could keep their militia, soldiers and security in line, it was Sergei. As for scientists, they needed people with high intellect but who wouldn't let their own sense of morals or judgement effect their loyalty to the company; currently, Spencer only had six scientists working for him, Martin Crackhorn and Henry Sarton being two of them.

"Did you acquire the samples I requested from Marcus?"

"Well, I, er..." Sarton hesitated, "well, Dr Marcus was very reluctant to hand us the samples. We had to spend some time persuading him that you requested them, but even then, he was still reluctant because he said that you had loss your sense of questing for scientific knowledge."

Spencer clenched his hands into fists.

_I'll have to really keep an eye on Marcus now. He is going too far._

Marcus was now starting to hoard his work for himself and question Spencer's loyalties. He was becoming too obsessed and paranoid over his work. When Spencer found someone more dependable and much better, Marcus will be gone.

"Both strains I trust?"

"Yes sir, we have Progenitor-A and Progenitor-B. We are just waiting for the subjects and your permission to proceed."

"Just wait there Sarton. I'll send the subjects down to you soon." With that, he hung up. He straightened up and brushed himself down, regarding himself in the mirror.

"You look magnificent, sir," Laura complimented.

"Thank you, my dear." He walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob. Before he left, he turned and looked at Laura. "If anyone calls, take all messages. And if Marcus or Ashford calls, be sure to get everything," he ordered.

Laura nodded.

Spencer picked up his cane, left the room and headed for the main hall, glancing at his watch to see the time was 8:25. Everything was going as planned, once they had their meal and the mansion retired for the evening, the Trevor women would be taken to the labs for experimentation with the Progenitor. As for George Trevor, he would be used to test the mansion's integrity and if anyone could escape; it would be ironic and helpful if the man who helped build the mansion and knew its designs could not escape the maze-like halls inside.

He entered the main hall from the second floor and looked down over the balcony railing to the Trevor women already waiting for him; Jessica was dressed in a floor-length black evening dress with matching heels and Lisa was dressed in a pink knee-length dress with a matching hair tie in her hair and black dress shoes. All in all, they looked wonderful and extravagant. He walked down the stairs, his cane making muffled _thuds_ on the carpeted wood as he approached the women.

"My, my, what a magnificent pair you make," he complimented, smiling warmly. He had the ability to fake the emotions behind his smiles, to lull people into his false expressions and make them believe what he wanted them to believe.

Jessica returned the smile. "Thank you, sir. We thought we should look our best to honour your hospitality." She looked at her daughter. "Be a good girl, Lisa. Say thank you."

Lisa beamed at Spencer and curtsied. "Thank you very much, Mister Spencer," she said in her sweet, little voice.

Any normal man who knew what was going to happen to them would feel his heart break after seeing her sweet smile, but Spencer was a cold, ruthless and emotionless man, doing what had to be done for the good of the company; a true politician and bureaucrat.

They walked through the door on the left side of the main hall into the dining room. The dining room was huge and large in splendour, a large oaken table capable of seating up to fifteen-twenty people lined the main part of the room, with four windows running along the left side of the room, showing the outside woodland, and a small desk between the middle windows with a vase sitting on top; the right of the room had a grandfather clock and a painting with a door leading into a hallway, and at the far end was an alcove with a fireplace underneath and an emblem resting above it with two swords crossed over each other.

The table was adorned with china plates and silver cutlery, a wide array of foods covering the top, ranging from bowls of fruit to a large roast chicken. Over a dozen servants stood by, standing in complete silence, waiting for orders from Spencer; lieutenant McVarian stood by the door and immediately snapped to attention as soon as Spencer entered the room.

"At ease, McVarian." He turned to the Trevors. "Let us take a seat and enjoy the meal."

Spencer took a seat at the end of the table by the fireplace with McVarian on his left and Lisa, followed by Jessica, on his right. The security people soon entered and took their seats, awaiting for their meals; Spencer tied a napkin around his neck and then snapped his fingers, a servant coming straight to him.

"Fetch a bottle of red wine for us and some freshly-squeezed grape juice for the child," he ordered. The servant nodded and left, the other servants handing out food which was a large portion of roast chicken, peas, carrots, mashed-potatoes with butter and gravy. The wine and juice soon arrived, and was given out to the people at the table as they continued to eat. They had spent thirty minutes eating their meal, everyone having finished and thoroughly enjoyed it, Spencer raised his glass to the people around him.

"I propose a toast to our guests, to our company that shall arise and to whatever the future holds." He held the glass out. "To the future!"

"To the future!" everyone chanted before downing their glasses. The servants soon arrived with their deserts, an assortment of different flavoured pies, a batch of strawberries and some cream. As the servings were dished to the people, Spencer glanced over at the Trevors, Jessica waiting patiently as her daughter couldn't hold still for her helping of the dessert.

"I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Mrs Trevor?" he asked, wiping his face with his napkin.

Jessica smiled and nodded. "Yes, Lord Spencer. Everything was excellent. But," her voice became sad and she looked off as if seeing something on the wall opposite her, "I wish my husband was here with us."

Spencer remained silent as she continued to stare blankly ahead of her, her mind probably thinking about her husband.

"Daddy will be here soon, mummy," Lisa reassured. "Do you want me to play the piano for you? That makes you smile."

"You play the piano?" Spencer asked before Jessica could reply, actually curious.

Lisa blushed. "Yes, sir. Would you like to hear it?" she asked meekly.

Spencer smiled. "Of course, my dear. After dessert, we can head over to the piano room just down the hall and you can 'tickle the ivories' to coin the phrase," he said.

After dessert had been finished, all of the security staff went to bed or back on their shifts. Spencer led the Trevors through the door on the right side of the fireplace and led them down the hall to the door at the corner; they all stepped inside and Spencer shut the door before taking a seat at the bar, Jessica standing by the piano, and McVarian and two of his officers standing by the door. Lisa sat on the bench and placed the sheet of music on the piano.

"This is _'Moonlight Sonata'_" Lisa explained.

She started to play, the sweet melody soothing from the piano into the ears of the people inside the room, lifting their spirits like a balm. Spencer closed his eyes and relaxed into the melody, the musical notes acting like a lullaby, calming his body into a deep sleep. The melody continued to play throughout the room, its soft tune echoing off the walls until Lisa's fingers stopped playing along the keys and the room fell into silence. Everyone in the room began to applaud Lisa's playing.

"Marvellous! Simply marvellous!" Spencer commented. He then glanced at his watch; it was coming up to 9:15. "Well,I'll guess we should call it a night, ladies and gentlemen." With that, he left the room.

He and Lt. McVarian walked down the hall towards the dining room, both silent until Spencer began to speak.

"When they are settled in, take them to the labs and prepare them for the experiments," he ordered.

McVarian stopped walking. Spencer walked onward a few more steps before he stopped and turned.

"Problems, lieutenant?"

"What about George Trevor?" he asked after a moment's thought.

Spencer smirked. "Don't worry. I'll make up some lie to tell him his family have left the estate. And when we have everything ready, we'll dispose of him."

"How so, sir?"

"Let him go."

McVarian's face wore an expression of confusion. "Excuse me sir?"

"We need some valid and reliable test to show that no-one can escape this estate. And, ironically enough, what if the person to test the integrity was the architect himself?"

The lieutenant, having understood, nodded and left. Spencer walked back to his room, thinking over every detail. After the mansion had been completed, he had secretly constructed the labs and tunnels underneath the courtyard so the research could be hidden more easily; there was also a secondary lab constructed under the guardhouse in the courtyard.

Jessica and Lisa Trevor would be taken to the primary lab for experimentation, and he had a little surprise for George Trevor after he tested the mansion. For a brief moment, Spencer began to feel regret for having to use Lisa Trevor in the experiment's after listening to her play the piano. But it was the price of progress for the good of the company; man, woman, animal and child were all expendable if it was for progression. He had known that and stuck with it all his life...

Night-time fell. The silver moon casting its ethereal glow over the woods, stars twinkling on the dark blanket that is the sky, and the wind gently swaying the branches and leaves on the trees. Inside the Spencer Estate, everyone is fast asleep, except for two groups of men making their to the Trevors' room. They open the door and look inside to see Jessica Trevor asleep with her daughter curled up next to her; one of the men pulls out a syringe filled with a clear-white liquid and approaches the bed. He clamps a hand over Jessica's mouth to prevent her from screaming and stuck the needle in her neck, pushing down on the plunger. Jessica thrashed about, trying in vain to fight against the man who held her until the chemical began to take effect and she fell unconscious.

Lisa, having woken up from her mother's futile resistance at the man, tried to run from the room; Lisa had always been taught to run from any trouble and find help. However, another of the men scooped her up over his shoulder, ignoring her punches and kicks to his body.

"Mummy!!" she screamed as they were carried away. The men took them through the courtyard and tunnels to the entrance to the labs. Lisa continued to scream and attack the man carrying her while her mother lay slumped over the shoulder of the other man; the four men soon arrived at a lab, pushing open the double doors and stepping inside. Six scientists awaited them, each dressed in white lab coats, white aprons, white gloves, white face-masks, plain jeans or slacks underneath their aprons with ordinary work shoes on their feet.

Two gurneys, each with four straps on, stood waiting with the six scientists gathered around in a semi-circle. A camera was placed on a nearby desk, recording the scene, with a tape recorder and two vials of light-bluish fluid next to it. Lisa and Jessica were placed on the gurneys and strapped in, Lisa continuing to struggle in vain, as two of the scientists came forward with a syringe filled with the fluid each; the fluid was injected by each scientist into each woman's arm and a probe was inserted in their jugular vein.

One of the computers came to life, showing a pair of readings on the screen, one reading had the label 'ProASub-001' and the other was labelled 'ProBSub-002'. Lisa's eyelids began to flutter up and down as she tried to stay awake, but the virus flowing through her veins was breaking down her resistance.

One of the scientists turned on the camera and pushed record, the red light turning on. Another scientist picked up the tape recorder, pushed record and held it to his lips as he spoke.

"This is Doctor Henry Sarton, Umbrella Researcher at Arklay Research Facility. Subjects, Lisa and Jessica Trevor, have been injected with Progenitor virus at," he checked his watch "11:12p.m. November 10th 1967. Jessica Trevor has been injected with the Progenitor-A strain." He looks up at the other scientists. Three were taking samples from Lisa and Jessica, another was watching the readings on the computer screen and the last was writing everything Sarton was saying. Sarton walked over to the screen and looked at the readings.

"There is slight plasmolyzing of tissue during cell activation. Virus fusion is negative. Subject will have to be contained," he explained.

He looked at Lisa then back at the readings.

"Lisa Trevor has been administered Progenitor-B strain." He looks at the readings. Jessica's readings are normal with some slight anomalies. Lisa's readings, however, are changing radically, raising and falling in giant peaks. "Large plasmolyzing of tissue during cell activation. Virus fusion is positive. However, reaction with virus is delayed. Request subject is put under observation for duration of containment," he explained, stopping the tape.

The guards soon removed Jessica and Lisa, taking them to the holding cells and placing them in individual cells. The guards left the prisoners inside the cells, Jessica still in unconsciousness with her body twitching at the effects of Progenitor. Lisa, however, was in a much worse state; she was shivering uncontrollably, her eyes tightly shut, sweat running down her forehead, whimpering and moaning in her sleep. The experiments were set in motion...

Two days later, Spencer sat in his office, reading over the reports given to him by the lab staff. He was quite impressed that everything was going along so well and that already results were coming in. But, his talk with Marcus earlier that day had angered him greatly. Marcus had been waiting for Spencer to call and had immediately started to scold him on taking the Progenitor strains.

_He is becoming far too headstrong. I'll have to get rid of him soon._

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in," he announced.

Lt. McVarian stepped through and immediately stood to attention.

"Sir, permission to ask a question," he stated.

"Granted."

"What shall you do with the subjects, sir?"

Spencer looked up from the report. "Excuse me?"

"That child, Lisa, is becoming unstable. I think she may be going insane."

"And the problem is?" he asked, keeping his patience.

"Well," the lieutenant stammered, "if you were to put them together, Lisa might attack her mother. However sir, the mother isn't holding out well either."

Spencer smiled a cold, small smile. "That's the idea. It'll show us how the Progenitor affects a person's mental capabilities. If they kill each other, it doesn't matter. It's all for progress," he explained.

"And how will you dispose of their bodies, sir?"

Spencer spun around in his chair to gaze out the window. "Do you remember that stone coffin I had constructed near the entrance to the labs?"

The lieutenant nodded slowly, confused as to where this was going.

"I'll put the body in there, just to see how the other subject reacts to it."

"Just one body, sir?"

Spencer pulled out Lisa's report, his smile growing wider. "I have a good feeling of which one shall survive." He spun around to face the lieutenant, his smile vanishing. "You may leave."

The lieutenant nodded and turned to leave.

"McVarian?"

He turned to look at Spencer.

"I shall reward you for your loyal services. I still trust you with the highest regard, my old friend. Remember that."

"Thank you sir." The lieutenant left.

McVarian shuddered and walked down the halls. He didn't like the way Spencer was acting right now, seeming to be approaching the edge of insanity without caution but McVarian immediately shrugged. He believed in only carrying out his duty, for it was his only purpose in life. When he was young, he always wondered what his purpose was, what he was born to do and he had found it many years in the service of Lord Oswell Edmund Spencer. His purpose was his duty; his duty was to remain loyal to Spencer...

**I am having computer troubles at the moment so I am double-checking to make sure that I won't lose this story. It has taken quite some time and thinking power to make, and I don't want to start from scratch.**

**Anyway, I would to offer a special thanks to my first reviewers, especially Chaed, for taking the time to read and for offering complimenting me on my work. I hope to get this uploaded as soon as I can and get to the part of Wesker and Birkin's employment in Umbrella. And how the T-Virus experiments shall progress over the years.**

**Stay tuned for the next chapters!! Thanks again!!!**


	6. Chapter 6

Six

George Trevor stopped his rental car and stepped out in front of the Spencer Estate, marvelling at the way it looked just from the outside. It was extravagant, incredible and full of grandeur.

_My greatest achievement in life._

He stood staring at it, for how long he didn't know or care, until he heard a familiar voice speak to him.

"Yes, it truly is your best work."

George stopped staring at the mansion and looked to the front of the car to see Lord Spencer standing there in his business suit, his hands firmly placed on the head of his cane.

George held out his hand. "It's a real pleasure to see you again, Mr Spencer."

Spencer grasped George's hand and shook it. "The pleasure's all mine. After all, you made my mansion into its magnificent glory."

George nodded, feeling a great sense of pride for having created the mansion and being praised for it. Spencer started to walk towards the front doors and George followed like a loyal dog. As soon as they stepped into the main hall, George was immediately stunned by the splendour of the room. He had known the mansion would look be incredible when it was finished, but he hadn't imagined it to look like this.

"Have my wife and daughter seen this?" he asked in a small voice.

Spencer nodded. "They were very enthralled by the mansion. They were impressed and enjoyed their stay."

George looked at Spencer in perplexity. "But I thought my wife was staying here since she would arrive on the tenth. She said she'd be here when I arrived."

"Yes, she did. "But her aunt has become ill and she went with Lisa to visit her," Spencer explained. "Oh, and I must thank you and your wife for buying me that shotgun as a gift for me, I have left it in the strongbox in one of the security dorms."

"Very well, sir."

"Anyway, why don't I take you on a tour of the estate?" he asked, gesturing towards one of the doors.

George eagerly followed Spencer into the dining room and from there around the rest of the mansion. Normally, he would have given some thoughts to his family not being anywhere with him, but he was too captivated by the splendour of his success with the mansion that he gave the topic no second thoughts. He just marvelled at the sight of every part of the mansion and didn't give a second thought to his family. But had he known what his family was going through, he would be distraught at their situation. And had he known what would happen to him, he wished he and his family never came...

Memories. Precious images or video images of our life. Some state that our memories are encoded in our genetics for us to relive at any time. Others say they are stored in our subconscious. But, none of this mattered to Jessica Trevor because she was losing hers. She sat in a small, dank cell on a mouldy, worn-out mattress atop a metal bed, dressed in a white hospital gown; a filthy toilet sat in one corner and a sink stood opposite the bed. The cell smelled of damp mould and faeces from the toilet, with the faint aroma of whatever food was given to her. She brought her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them tightly, using all her strength to keep the images of her husband and daughter fresh in her mind.

It had been three days since she had been locked up. The guards regularly slid food through the hatch in the door every four hours and stood watch outside, occasionally looking through the barred window in the door to check on her. In those three days, she tried to find some way of escape, tried to keep her memories alive and just fell asleep, ignoring the ringing drone in her head. During her time in the cell, people dressed in white clothes kept injecting with some light-bluish fluid or a milky-white fluid; they had claimed it was for nutrition, but it made the ringing drone in her head get worse and she was now losing a lot of her memories. In just three days, she had lost memories of her parents, the first time she cried, the first time she went to the beach as a child; but the most important memory she lost was that of her wedding.

She felt warm tears trickle down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly, praying that this was just a dream and she would wake up soon at home with her family. But it wasn't a dream because she was constantly reminded by the relentless droning in her head and the itching on her right arm. She looked at her right arm, at on the small pin-sized holes on the underside of her elbow. The fluid in the needles made her arm itch and caused the skin to turn an infected-red colour. She placed her head in her hands and cried, praying that Lisa would get away and George would come get her.

The guard outside banged on the metal door. "Hey!! Shut up in there!!" he shouted.

Jessica ran up to the bars, her eyes red with tears, and grasped the guard's shoulder.

"Please! Let me see my daughter!" she begged. "Please!!"

The guard was silent and still for a few moments before he held out a piece of paper and a pen.

"Unless I am given new orders, I can't let you see her. But I can pass on any letters between you and her."

Jessica took the pen and paper. "Thank you," she replied.

She took the letter and immediately started writing. It took her some time because her third tray of food was slid through the door. She handed over the letter and the guard left to deliver it to Lisa. She ate her meal, which consisted sliced up vegetables and some cooked beef with a bottle of mineral water. She crawled back into bed and prayed for her daughter's well-being as more of her memories slipped away...

The next day, November 14th, was bright and sunny with a slight overcast. George Trevor awoke from a good sleep and sat up, stretching his arms in rising to a new day. He got out of bed and went in the shower, throwing his previous day's clothes in the wash. As the warm water flowed over his body, he began to think over what had happened yesterday. Spencer had shown him all around the mansion, from the mansion itself to the courtyard, and he enjoyed every sight of it.

The architecture was a reflection of everything he dreamed he would accomplish from his work and he was filled with an immense sense of pride from completing the mansion in all its splendour. He just wished his wife and daughter were here with him so that he could have a whole perfect day. But sadly, they hadn't returned from visiting Jessica's ailing aunt and he could only wait.

_I hope they'll come back soon. I miss them a lot._

There was a knock at his bedroom door and he hurried to answer it, wrapping a towel around his waist. He opened the door a crack and peered outside to see one of the security personnel outside.

"Yes?"

"George Trevor. Mr Spencer would like a word with you," the guard informed him.

George nodded. "Okay. Just let me get dressed and I'll follow you to his office."

George shut the door, locked it and quickly got dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and brown loafers. He didn't have time to put a brush through his hair, so he left it as messy as it was. He left his room and followed the guard through the mansion to Spencer's office.

George followed the guard from his room in the guardhouse, through the courtyard to the back entrance through the tool shed, through the vine-covered walled-out walkway and entered through the back gate. They turned the corner and stopped in front of a large oaken door with a small lock embroiled in a gold plate, decorated by the Spencer family coat-of-arms, on the centre of the door. George was getting anxious to have another look around the mansion that he didn't knock and barged through the door while Spencer was in a meeting.

Spencer sat behind his large pine-wood desk, reading a piece of paper in his hands, an empty folder lay on the desk and his glasses perched on his nose. The other two men sitting in the plush leather chairs in front of the desk looked up as George came in the room; George recognised them from the broadcast concerning the formation of the new pharmaceutical company Umbrella next year. The man seated in the chair on George's left was Lord Edward Ashford and the man seated in the other chair was Dr James Marcus.

Surprisingly enough, Spencer didn't seemed bothered by this interruption. In fact, he smiled.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce George Trevor, renowned architect and the creator of this lustrous estate," Spencer stated.

Marcus just grunted in affirmation and Edward smiled at him, before they both turned back to look at Spencer.

"I think we'll call it a day, gentlemen," Spencer said.

George stood aside as Edward and Marcus left. Marcus lingered for a while longer, but left after catching a glare from Spencer. As the door slid, Spencer gestured George to sit in a chair.

"I apologise for interrupting your meeting," he said as he sat down in the chair Edward had sat in not so long ago.

Spencer waved his hand dismissively. "The meeting was over anyway, no matter how much Marcus wanted to press the subject on our work."

George could hear an undertone made evident from the word 'Marcus', most likely contempt or annoyance. Obviously, him and Marcus weren't on very good times.

Spencer placed his elbows on the table, interlocking his hands together and focused his eyes on George from over his hands.

"I called you here to discuss how I plan to use this estate," he explained.

George settled into the chair and nodded. He felt a bit nervous from Spencer's stare but discarded the thought immediately.

"As you most likely know from that news announcement weeks ago, I intend to establish a major pharmaceutical corporation named 'Umbrella', which will operate on a global scale in every continent. Marcus shall run the scientific studies of the corporation while Edward and myself shall run the bureaucratic side of the business. Now, this house," he gestured around with his hand, "will be used as a guest house for the company's higher-ups and VIPs."

George nodded. "Thank you sir. Although," he looked down at the floor, "I do miss my family."

Spencer chuckled and shook his head slightly, his greying hair swaying. "The care and loyalty of a family man, that's what you have Mr Trevor. Don't worry, I have a feeling you'll be together very shortly. You may leave."

George got up and headed for the door.

"Mr Trevor."

He turned to face Spencer.

"Yes sir."

Spencer glanced at him once before returning back to his work.

"Feel free to wander the mansion, if it'll take your mind of your family."

George didn't say anything to that and just left the office, deciding to take an exploration of the mansion again, starting with the first floor. He walked through all the halls, admiring the mixture of materials used to build the estate, and the colours and portraits that decorated the inside. He first visited the painting-puzzle room just at the end of the hall from Spencer's office, opposite the rear gate. He looked and admired the stained-glass portraits along with the lights that illuminated them in different colours. He looked up at the metal bar where the crows stared at him with beady-black eyes, some holding pieces of fish in their beaks from the bowl placed by the door; Spencer said that these crows were trained to attack anything in the room at the slightest disturbance.

_Which would be the electric shock that runs through the bar, if the person doesn't get the right colours illuminating the right portrait._

And at the end of the room, around the small thin wall that split the room apart, was a portrait of his daughter Lisa. It was the way he wanted it to be, because it captivated the way he saw her so perfectly that he couldn't leave it out of the mansion design. His daughter's portrait displayed her as she truly was; an angel. He had spent most of his time staring at it and had to hurry his tour of the mansion sooner before evening came.

He explored as much of the mansion as he could for the time he had before he was going to turn in. He looked at the armour-puzzle room on the second floor, the key puzzle-corridor, the tiger statue, the gallery room and the statue corridor trap. Each and every one of these rooms was equipped with a variety of different puzzle methods to work them, and some were built with traps that would catch the unwary off-guard.

He marvelled at every aspect of his work and could not stop the enormous sense of pride that washed over his being for having created this architectural masterpiece. He felt grateful for Lord Spencer for giving him the chance to build this as it had became the most greatest part of his life, other than his family. However, he couldn't shake the nagging sense of loneliness at the fact his family wasn't here with him and that made him become mildly depressed at times. The security staff had begun to notice it in him that he was developing mood swings; one minute he was joyful, the next he was saddened.

_And Spencer isn't helping matters._

He knew that Spencer was trying to be helpful and supportive, but he somehow had this suspicion that Spencer was keeping something from him, something about his family. Yet George dismissed that train of thought immediately after he was captivated by his work; but the feeling began to re-emerge itself as his sense of pride took a back seat. He walked through the mansion halls, pondering over his family's whereabouts.

His mind said it was just a coincidence his paranoia was using to scare him, but he couldn't shake it from his mind. He knew that his wife and daughter would have waited for him to arrive before leaving because they were the perfect family, utterly inseparable; they never went anywhere without all of them together. And yet, Spencer had told him his family had upped-and-left without so much as leaving a message was nagging at him only now, once he had stopped revelling in his work.

He continued to pace through the halls, lost in his thoughts when he heard something, a slow, continuous _thud-thud-thud_ drone. The sound began to increase in its speed and noise level, and sounded like it was leaving the estate. He hurried through the halls and burst through the front doors, looking up at the sky as he ran outside. Two black, military helicopters flew off towards the city and then split off from each other once they neared the outskirts of the city; one headed north, the other headed south. That was really setting off his suspicions about Spencer's talks with him.

_What on earth were military helicopters doing on this estate?_

He knew that they had to have been used to transport Dr Marcus and Lord Ashford away from the estate. But why not a car? Or a public helicopter? Now that he thought of it, how could a helicopter land on the estate? There wasn't any room to land due to the mansion's design and the woods had several clearings, but it was still quite a walk to the estate. There was no possible way that a helicopter, on top of that a military helicopter, could land on the estate. He went back inside, taking several looks back at the horizon where the helicopters flew off. He went through the rest of his day without saying much and thought over what he had seen before he headed off to his room for a sleep, troubled by his growing paranoia...

Lisa sat curled up in the corner of her cell. The food tasted strange in her mouth and the shot was making her ill. A guard had given her note from her mother some time ago, but she could barely remember most of the words. The letter had definitely said her and her mother trying to escape from this place, and find daddy.

But nothing had happened and the men in white coats kept visiting her. The shots she had been given over the days were worsening her condition; she felt like she was on fire, was breaking out in a cold sweat, had a splitting headache, her stomach was hurting and now she felt dizzy. She just spent her days sitting in the cell, eating the food they gave her and prayed for her mummy to find her. And she still hadn't come, and she could only assume the worst. She had been abandoned.

_No! Mummy will come! Mummy will come! Help me mummy, please help me!_

She sank back further against the wall, curling her arms even more tighter around her body. Lisa had always believed she had the best parents in the world, always there for her, always ready to help, always loving her. But now, she was alone, her father gone and her mother somewhere looking.

_Mummy. Please come mummy. I need you mummy._

She kept the images of her mother fresh in her mind as her headache worsened and the fire engulfed her further...

Spencer sat behind his desk, looking at the report in his hands. It was a fully detailed report on the female Trevors' conditions and how they were developing from their exposure to the Progenitor strains. Doctors Sarton and Crackhorn stood in front of his desk, waiting patiently, with their hands folded behind their backs. Spencer scanned the report twice, his cold eyes darting back and forth from reading the lines behind his thin wire-framed glasses before he had taken in all the relevant information and laid the report on his desk.

"What do you think sir?" Sarton asked, leaning forward expectantly.

Spencer tapped the desk with his fingertips. "I am pleased that the research is moving forward with good results," he stated.

Crackhorn nodded. "Yes sir. The experiment is going to our estimations and theories sir. But only for the girl. The woman is a failure."

"Which is why I have decided to instigate a new phase in the experiments." Spencer leaned forward, hands clasped together, his chair creaking from his movement. "I wish to know how the Progenitor affects mental health and functioning. The two females shall be allowed to dine together and engage in conversation. You and the research staff shall observe and record all transgressions. I'll have Lt. McVarian personally watch over the experiment with a small detachment of the security staff to make sure _nothing_ goes wrong," he explained.

Sarton scowled. "With respect, sir, we don't need those barbaric imbeciles with tools to guard us. A sedative in the girl's bloodstream shall prevent any mishaps."

Spencer's face hardened and Sarton began to look nervous.

"I issue the commands and you _will_ have the security personnel there to watch. Understand?" he asked, his voice baring a hint of irritation.

Sarton and Crackhorn both nodded, then left.

Spencer leaned back in his chair and turned the chair around to look out the window at the sunset.

_Those arrogant fools think they can handle anything. Sarton has to realise that security is here for a reason other than keeping people out._

He pressed the CALL button on the intercom system and waited for his secretary to pick up.

"Yes, Mr Spencer?" Laura answered.

"Send for Lt McVarian, my dear," he ordered.

"Right away sir."

Spencer waited for about 15 minutes before there was a knock on his door. "Enter," he commanded.

The door and McVarian entered, dressed in a camouflage suit that was a montage of black and grey with combat boots. The lieutenant snapped to attention and saluted.

"At ease, lieutenant."

McVarian complied.

Spencer spun around to face his old friend and bodyguard. "Have you heard about the newest progress we have made in the experiments?" he asked.

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. "All I heard was that the girl was showing signs of the Progenitor infection and the other was a failure."

Spencer smiled a cold, ruthless smile. "Well, I have decided to see what would happen if the two were to be together again. Naturally, something will happen due to Lisa's exposure to the Progenitor. Which is why I need you and your men to watch over the experiment with the research staff."

McVarian scowled briefly at the thought of being near the scientists. Spencer's smiled vanished. He knew about the strained relationship between security and research staff; it was all down to the attitudes they portrayed to each other. The scientists saw the security guards as mentally-retarded barbarians wielding weapons to get a purpose in life. However, the security personnel saw the researchers as pompous, high-and-mighty, stuck-up people with no love for anything that wasn't in a test-tube. Fortunately, McVarian and Spencer were the ones who made sure this dislike between the groups didn't affect the integrity of their protection or work.

The lieutenant sighed. "If that is what you want sir," he replied reluctantly.

Spencer nodded and waved his hand dismissively. The lieutenant nodded and left.

Spencer then looked out the window at the growing night sky and thought over what would happen tomorrow. He would have the Trevor females dine together, make sure all results were recorded and send the experiments into the next phase. However, their new company and cover-front 'Umbrella' was soon to be completed and he would have to focus more on managing the corporation.

_I'll also need to keep an eye on Marcus and get up to speed with his work on the Progenitor._

He scowled fiercely and clenched his fists. Marcus hadn't been sending his reports on time and the ones that did come through were becoming increasingly vague. He was becoming more obsessed with the work and not the future of the company that he had helped build. But that would have to wait. He had to watch over the experiment with the Trevors and make sure nothing would go wrong.

_Hopefully, nothing shall go wrong._

He stood up, put away the reports and walked out of his office, heading for his bedroom. It was time for him to have a good night's rest and be ready for the next day...


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

On 15th November, the labs were a flood of activity as scientists were in non-stop motion in preparing for the experiments. Most were standing by with video cameras to record the experiment, others were setting up programs on the computer to monitor the experiments and the rest sat at their desks with pen in hand to scrawl on the paper in front of them, staring intently through the large window into the room beyond.

They would thoroughly barricade the door to prevent the Trevors from escaping and stand guard outside in case of anything spectacular. McVarian stood by the window looking through at the room, the simple empty room covered in sheer white and with fluorescent lights cascading the room in unlimited brightness. Dr Sarton had stated that they could only spare the room on floor B3 nearest to the elevator, which would be later used for body storage; McVarian had claimed his nervousness at the thought of the glass being shattered but Sarton had reassured him that it was reinforced.

_I'll have my men ready, just in case._

The scientists assumed that the glass and doors would hold them inside. But to McVarian assumptions, as the saying goes, were the mother of all fuck ups.

Dr Sarton walked over to him after speaking with another researcher. "The experiment is ready to proceed," he informed the lieutenant in his snobby tone.

McVarian crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Sarton. "All right. But my men are going to be fully armed and alert if they escape. We can't allow them to escape to the city," he explained.

Sarton immediately scowled as he finished. "Oh no you won't. Absolutely, no firearms _must_ be used on or near the specimens. We can't risk any damage."

McVarian returned Sarton's scowl. He didn't need some science nerd to tell him what he could or couldn't use.

"Then how do you propose we stop them? Use a water pistol or hit them with a plastic sword?" he retorted.

Sarton's face went bright red as he walked off. It was a few seconds that he came back with two large metal cases, one in each hand, and placed them at the lieutenant's feet.

"You will use these. Sergei Vladimir had our Weapons Department manufacture these in order to capture specimens without risk of damage," he explained.

McVarian bent down to open the cases. He knew that, according to Spencer, Sergei Vladimir was in charge of organising their military forces and running their Weapons Department for when Umbrella would be completed. Colonel Vladimir was a very loyal friend to Spencer, a harsh military man, and a perfectionist for producing weapons and training recruits. He always made sure that all weapons were suitable for use, depending on the situation and had them tested several times to make sure they worked efficiently.

McVarian hoisted open the lids and peered inside. The cases contained what looked like two electrodes sticking out from a large electric-plug at the end of a long rifle barrel covered in thick wires; at the back of the barrel was a large battery that seemed to be for a power generator with a plastic on-off lever on top and a rubber handle in front of it. He hefted up in his hands; it felt a little heavy, just under fifty pounds.

"That is a 'Spark Shot'," Sarton explained, "a high-voltage stun-gun. It uses the power from the battery and charges the current in the electrodes, so it can be put under a high concentration and, when released, fired as a projectile."

McVarian held it with his right hand taking the handle and his left hand grasping the rubber grip on its underside.

"How do I change the Voltage and current levels?" he asked. He liked to know all the weapons features and how they could be used when needed.

Sarton pointed to a dial on the top of the battery; the meter ran in a clockwise-direction and it turned red near the end.

"Turn the dial to increase the levels, but refrain yourself from turning it the red levels. That level would kill the specimen," he cautioned.

McVarian nodded and handed the other Spark Shot to an additional soldier. He glanced around at the lab and everyone stood ready.

"Bring in the specimen's," he finally ordered...

Lisa didn't resist as the guards took her from her cell. She was actually glad because they were taking her to her mother, her sacred mother whom she longed to see for days. She had been afraid that her mother had escaped without her, leaving her with the men and the burning. The burning had now subsided and she was left with just a numb feeling, her body just didn't feel anything at all any more.

_It doesn't matter. I want my mummy. My mummy. My mummy,_ her mind begged continuously.

The men were talking with each other but she couldn't make out the words. The words were just said in some inane gibberish and left her with a constant ringing in her ears. She just let them carry her with their arms hooked under hers, her head hung low, her blonde hair hanging loosely over eyes and her feet dragging along behind her.

They soon came to a set of thick metallic doors and she was pushed inside the room roughly, the door slamming shut and being locked behind her. She looked around, her vision was blurred and the room seemed to be shrouded in a thick fog. There was a large window on the wall to her right with several people looking through to see inside, computer monitors and equipment were lined up against the glass. There was nothing else to see except-

_Mummy!!_

-her mother sitting by a table with some food on it that she couldn't recognise. Her mother looked up at her and smiled, running over to her and hugging her tightly. Lisa felt tears run down her face and looked to see that the same was happening with her mother, tears falling down her cheeks. However, as Lisa continued to stare at her mother, something seemed to be out of place, something wrong. It was her mother's face, the same eyes, nose, mouth, skin and hair; but she seemed different on the inside.

_This isn't my mummy! She's a fake! She's a thief!_

Her eyes widened in shock as the realization hit her. It made sense. The people had taken her mother away and were sending her this fake to keep her locked away. Even worse, they had stolen her mother's face and given it to this fake to trick her. She couldn't stay she needed her mummy and daddy, especially her mummy.

She had made a promise in that letter that they would escape and she knew her mother always kept her promises. But her mummy wouldn't leave without her face, she would be so sad. She had to do something for her mummy but what? What could she do with this fake with her and the men out there? Then it occurred to her. She would take back her mother's face, find her mummy and escape with her. She would save her mother. She just had to...

Jessica felt nothing but the immense joy of seeing her little girl alive and well. The tears spilling down her cheeks were just a small fraction of the joy she was feeling. She didn't care about the guards outside or the fact they were still held captive, somewhere underground. All that mattered was the child in her arms.

She wiped her eyes and looked at her daughter. "Lisa, my baby. I am so glad you safe," she stated, her voice shaking from the shed tears. She walked over to the table and sat down, beckoning her daughter over. She sat down and began to eat her food. It was some slightly-overcooked beef, lettuce, sliced carrots, cold gravy and a bottle of mineral water shared between them. Jessica's mind was already planning their escape as she continued to eat her food.

Now that she had Lisa with her, she had to escape. She decided that they would wait for the guards to come and take them away before they could leave. They would run past them, into the labs, find a place to hide until they stop searching and then head back to the surface to escape in the woods. However, their chances of finding a place to hide from the guards in the labs was slim to none; these men would now the maze of corridors like the back of their hands. But once in the woods, Jessica knew she and her daughter would be safe.

_They can't follow us through the woods, unless they have hunting dogs or good trackers. Oh God, why did this happen to us? What did we d-_

"Are you my mummy?" Lisa asked suddenly, jarring Jessica from her thoughts.

"What? Why do you ask?" Jessica asked, smiling as if it were a joke.

"Where is my mummy? I want my mummy," Lisa whined, tears of sadness coming to her eyes as she hung her head low.

Jessica walked over to her daughter and hugged her gently, patting her head tenderly. "I'm here Lisa. Don't worry. It's really me," she said, concern in her voice.

As Jessica looked at her daughter, concern and love flooding her eyes for Lisa to see, Lisa looked up at her. Jessica was shocked to see her eyes were not filled with love or appreciation, but rage and scorn burning inside, her mouth twisted into a scowl.

"Get your hands off me," she snarled.

Jessica back away slowly, wondering what had caused this rage in her treasured child. She would never had done anything bad to her for this rage to manifest itself. It had to have been those bastards who took her, they did something to her and were now enjoying the scene from outside the window. Jessica tried to approach her daughter, holding out her arms to hug Lisa-

-and was sent flying into the window from a ferocious backhand by her daughter. She sat against the glass, momentarily stunned from the impact, feeling quite dizzy and sore. Lisa charged forward at her in a frenzy, shrieking. Her arms held out in front of her, her nails long and sharpened as claws. Jessica sat there in shock, begging Lisa to stop and calm down, to change back to the angelic little girl she was.

She tried to stand up but Lisa leapt forward, landing on her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She scratched Jessica's face with her long nails, the blood pouring down her face. Lisa hissed ferociously. Jessica tried in vain to push her daughter off her but she was weak from the beating and couldn't move the enraged child. Suddenly, Lisa grabbed the skin by the cut and pulled. Hard. Now, Jessica started screaming in pain as skin started to tear and blood ran down her face like a small waterfall. Some of the blood went in her eyes and she could barely see through the red haze.

Soon, there came the sound of flesh being ripped away and her face soon went numb. Her body began to feel weak and she felt herself slipping away in darkness. She slumped down and her head hit the floor; she looked up at the shadow that was her daughter, holding up the skin of her face, shouting, "MUMMY!!!" as loud as she could. Lisa then glared down at her and moaned, a deep, sorrowful moan. And Jessica smiled, smiled because part of her daughter was still there, still watching and caring for everything she loved.

_Lisa, my baby, forgive me. I couldn't save you. My father and I...we...love...you._

It was her last thought, her very last thought, before her eyes clouded over, her body falling limp and her chest stopped its simple motion of breathing...

**Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing my story so far. I am writing this as fast as I can and hope to get a lot done soon.**

**I am currently writing chapter** **12 and it is getting a lot longer than expected so Wesker and Birkin may come in a little late. So, thank you for being so patient.**

**Also, I would like to thank the user DarkBeastBoy (sorry if I have got your name wrong) for putting this story onto your favourites list. I am glad this is enjoyable for you to read.**

**Stay tuned for the next chapters!!!**


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

Lisa held up her mother's face, her _true_ mother's face, after taking it from the imposter and stared at it lovingly. This face, beautiful face, was of one of the people she loved most, who cared and nurtured her for as long as she could remember. This person had fed her, clothed her, played games with her, watched her plays at school, comforted her when she cried, the person who mattered out of all to her, along with her father. She placed the face over her own, the skin feeling cold and slimy, like jelly, looking through the open eye-holes with her own. She looked around the room until her eyes settled upon the metal door leading outside.

_Mummy. Daddy. I am coming. I'M COMING!!_

With her mind set and determination focused, she charged at the door...

Lt McVarian stared in shock and awe at the sight through the window. The girl had smacked her mother across the room into the window with relative ease, considering her size. No child could possess that strength to knock an adult with such force and at such a distance, not any child that he knew of. But with the Progenitor, nothing was normal. It changed everything living creature it touched, making them into something like a demon from hell, supernatural powers, paranormal physique and deadly viscosity.

It was the Devil's hand, corrupting and morphing whatever it touched into a monstrosity. McVarian personally had his own doubts about the experiments and the virus but (wisely) kept them to himself; he was utterly loyal to Spencer and his decisions. If he wanted to use this virus, so be it. If he wanted McVarian's help to kill innocents, the lieutenant would do it. No order from Spencer would McVarian disobey. He was loyal to Lord Oswell E. Spencer. That was it.

_Still, this virus. And that girl..._

He was still paralysed by what he saw. The girl had obviously gone psychotic. She had torn off her mother's face and was wearing it as a mask. The virus was truly something to be feared. As he watched the girl charge and batter the door in an attempt to escape, he stared at the body of Jessica Trevor slumped against the window, her blood pooling on the floor around her mutilated face. He felt sorry for the woman, being killed by her own child in this dungeon, the child which was no longer human by nature, but he suppressed his emotions of pity and turned to Sarton.

The doctor was looking over the shoulder of one of his assistants at the readouts on a computer screen, watching the peaks rise and fall on the lines. He continued to take notes on a notebook in his hand before he turned to McVarian and walked over, staring at Lisa.

"Magnificent. The virus is working beyond our expectations. And those of Dr Marcus," he stated, a wide smile perched on his lips. McVarian wondered if he was enjoying this experiment in some weird way, but decided not to press the issue.

Instead, he asked, out of curiosity, "Dr Marcus' expectations?"

Sarton nodded. "Yes. According to some of Marcus' experiments with the Progenitor on lab animals, it seems the virus has the ability to strengthen its host to great levels of physical dominance and regenerative qualities. However, the virus also infects other cells and starts to mutate them in order to make the mutations occur in the subject's genetic code. However, these mutations are rapid and uncontrollable, thus we can't produce effective bio-weapons," he explained.

"Meaning?" McVarian prodded, worried where this was going, but wanted to find out what the virus did.

"From what we have been able to determine, in reptiles, amphibians, birds, fish and insects, it increases their size and aggressiveness. But in mammals, it kills them."

McVarian wasn't surprised. Most viruses can do that if unobserved. But he knew there was something else.

He asked, "Anything else?"

Sarton nodded, a grim expression on his face. "It revives them after a few hours."

If the lieutenant hadn't received the shock of his life yet, he did now. A virus that not only made animals turn into a giant, blood-thirsty creatures but killed them and brought them back from the dead. That had to be one of the most scariest things McVarian had known, a virus that defied the laws of nature and reality, born from something that belonged in a horror film, shook him at his very core.

_Wait, he said 'mammals' come back to life? Then that would mean..._

He snapped his head around to face Sarton.

"Humans can come back to life?" he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

"In theory. We haven't yet begun tests on humans, but based on the fact that we are mammals in nature, it should do that," he claimed, tapping his chin in thought.

McVarian looked through the window and pointed at Lisa. "Then why isn't she dead?"

Sarton shrugged his shoulders. "We'll have to conduct more tests on her to find out. In the meantime, I'll have her put back in the observation room for analysis and speak with Mr Spencer," he said.

Sarton walked over to his assistants and began issuing orders. The scientists gathered around him like people flocking to the Messiah, eagerly awaiting his orders. They all received their orders and went back to their stations. McVarian stood in the room, arms folded over his chest and began to think about what Sarton had said and about Lisa. If the Progenitor killed all mammals and revived them with paranormal properties, why did it not kill Lisa before mutating her?

_Lord Spencer will have to know about these developments. And about Marcus' lack of co-operation._

Marcus was acting far too independent. He was no longer sharing his research with Lord Spencer and seemed to be under the assumption that the virus just belonged to him. If Marcus continued to act this way, he would end up getting lost in the realms of insanity; and when that happened, he was expendable. He headed over to the phone on one of the desks and picked it up, speed dialling Spencer's office. It rang three times before picked up.

"This is Lord Oswell E. Spencer's secretary speaking. Please state your name and purpose for this call," came the usual welcome.

"This Lt. McVarian. I would like to tell him that the experiment has produced unexpected results and Sarton wishes to continue running tests," he explained.

"Very well. I shall pass on this information. Anything else?"

He was about to reply when one of his soldiers came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He instead informed her he would ring back and hung up, turning to the soldier. The soldier seemed quite nervous, he was shaking and sweat dotted his forehead.

"What is it?" McVarian asked.

The soldier pointed out the window with one quivering finger. He turned to look-

-and saw Lisa standing in front of the window, looking through from the other side. She stood there silently, her eyes watching everyone past the window through the empty eye-holes, hands rubbing the glass gently as if silently begging the people to let her out. The assistants looked quite anxious, some getting to their feet and slowly heading down the corridor. The guards slowly reached for their weapons and raised them at the girl behind the glass. McVarian held the Spark Shot ready, his left hand hovering near the on switch while his right hand gripped the handle tightly.

_This might get ugly._

"Lower your weapons," Sarton commanded, thoroughly annoyed. "She cannot get through. The-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sounds of Lisa hitting the glass. She back her hand and punched the glass several times before giving up and turning away. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief, thinking the worst was over, that she had given up-

-when she picked up the table and threw it at the glass. The assistants immediately backed away from the window in any direction, just to get away from the child trying to break the glass. The soldiers stood at the ready, pistols and machine guns pointed at the girl, eyes aiming down the sight and fingers on triggers. Lisa walked forward, hefted up the table with relative ease and swung it like a club into the window.

The glass, to everyone's amazement, started to crack, lines spreading like spider webs across the surface and small pieces trickled to the floor. Everyone started to get nervous, nobody was really sure if the reinforced glass could hold against the strength the Progenitor had bestowed on the little girl. She continued to hammer the glass until it started to bend outwards from the force of the blows and Lisa dropped the table, ran to the opposite end of the room and charged. She jumped-

-and the window bent fully outwards as the girl landed on the other side. She snarled and glared at everyone around, her eyes showing the cold harsh grip of insanity. One of the guard's stepped forward to restrain her but she looked at him and jumped at him, knocking him to the floor.

"Get her off me!! Get it off me!!" he yelled, as Lisa started hacking at his face with her nails.

One of the assistants hurried over and lifted the girl of him, but Lisa turned on him and bit into his neck. He screamed as his blood went all over Lisa, the walls and the ceiling; his clothes became stained in red as he continued to struggle against the savage girl that was tearing out his throat. His screams soon turned into the sound of choking on water and he fell to the floor, his eyes glassing over, his chest stopped rising and falling with breath, and his arms fell to his sides.

Lisa looked up from the corpse and hissed at the people around her, her teeth stained with the assistant's blood, her eyes darting between them all with a look of intense madness. One of the guards raised his gun, a 19mm Beretta M 1951 handgun, and pulled the trigger. The shot missed and hit the floor by Lisa's foot, causing her to jump at him. The guard held his arm in front of his face and fell backwards when Lisa kicked forwards with her feet, directly into his chest.

McVarian acted quickly, flipping the switch on the battery and pointed it at the small girl attacking the guard, holding the stock comfortably against his hip as the Spark Shot started to hum. Lisa slashed and bit at the man struggling beneath her, but the man was holding her at bay, one hand holding her neck and the other pushing against her chest. The power meter on the battery reached to 50V and the barrel started to pulse with electricity; McVarian pulled the trigger-

-and received a massive shock as the blast sent a huge recoil into his pelvis, causing him to stagger slightly. The blast lifted the girl right off her feet and sent her crashing into the wall, the concrete cracking under the impact and water pipes being bent out of shape, leaking water through the split metal.

As Lisa slumped to the floor, McVarian flipped the switch and the Spark Shot powered down; he placed the weapon on the ground and equipped the Heckler&Koch MP5 submachine gun, making sure a clip was loaded. He didn't care if this thing would get killed, it was dangerous and had to be put down, no matter what the scientists would say.

He pointed over to one of his soldiers and gestured to Lisa's prone, still form. The soldier stepped closer slowly, his weapon remained focused on the girl, finger on trigger; he crouched next to the girl and felt her neck for a pulse. He looked up and nodded, indicating the girl was alive. This news, consecutively, didn't lighten Sarton's mood as he stormed over to the lieutenant.

"You ignorant Neanderthal!" he yelled, his face red with anger, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "What would have happened if you killed her?"

McVarian just shrugged his shoulders in response. Sarton stood in place, clenching his fists until they started to bleed. Crackhorn just stayed out of sight, keeping out of the conversation, along with the other assistants. Sarton, to McVarian, was the only who gave a damn about the experiment, the others were glad they were still alive after her attack. Was the research so important that he didn't care about personal safety? Was it worth the life of the man who was mauled by the girl? Could he really be so careless about others?

_Just like Dr Marcus. I can understand Mr Spencer's growing irritation._

If Marcus was behaving just like Sarton, then that would explain everything about the lack of communication between his employer and the ageing scientist.

Marcus was getting it into his head that the research belonged to him and that Spencer had no say in what would happen with it. He was now hoarding it for himself, oblivious to the importance it held for the work and the progression of their future corporation. McVarian didn't approve of using the Progenitor at all, no matter what anyone said or saw in it. He just didn't like it, its purpose, its functions and its existence. Altogether, he hated and feared it.

_But if Spencer claims it must be used, then I shall obey his commands. My loyalties are to him and his aspirations._

He was indebted to Spencer. He was saved by him. After the Second World War, he had left the army and went back to civilian life, to work wherever he could find it. But it did not help him at all. It was the same for all soldiers after combat, the frustration and inability to adapt to normal life. After so much death. So much blood. So many screams. So much gunfire.

After June 6th, 1944. Omaha Beach.

_How the hell did I survive that shithole?_

He had experienced true fear on that beach. Blown out of the boat. Swimming through the sea to the shore, his friends around being shot by enemy fire, their blood staining and thickening the water around them. Or drowning from their gear weighing them down, preventing them from reaching oxygen they could breath. Running across the sand, blood flying everywhere, screams filling his ears followed the high-pitched whistling noise of an artillery shell landing nearby. No way granted by God could he return to a peaceful life. So he never left the battlefield.

Until Lord Oswell E. Spencer came. Mr Spencer had been on one of his business trips and was also on the look-out for more employment. He was chosen right off the bat when Spencer found out about his past. And from then on, 2nd Lieutenant Ronald McVarian had a purpose, and nothing would change that, not even the Progenitor.

"Sir, are you okay? Sir?" a guard asked.

McVarian brought himself back to reality and nodded to the guard.

"Yes. Just a memory," he replied blankly.

Before the soldier could say anything else, McVarian decided to speak with Spencer face-to-face, explain things upfront about the experiments, rather than using the phone.

Before the unearthly moan sounded down the hall. And the painful scream.

He spun around and raised the MP5, but lowered it slightly and stared in shock at the scene before, eyes nearly as wide as saucers.

_Mary Mother of GOD!!_

The assistant who Lisa had chomped on and killed was attacking another guard, his eyes milky white and blank. He bit down hard the guard's shoulder, tore a piece of flesh away and swallowed before taking another mouthful. McVarian focused again after his initial shock and acted fast. He hit the man over the head with his gun and pulled the guard out of his grasp, handing him over to Crackhorn and the others.

He turned back to the man and raised his weapon, aiming at his chest. Although he couldn't believe it, he knew what the Progenitor was capable of doing and after hearing Sarton say that the virus killed mammals and revived, it was safe to assume this man was 'undead' for lack of a better term.

Before he could pull the trigger, Sarton smacked the gun away from the man, causing the three-round burst fire to hit the wall. The man ignored it and continued to advance, holding his arms to grab someone as McVarian struggled with Sarton.

"Don't damage the specimens!!" he pleaded, wrestling weakly for the gun.

Lisa, apparently, having regained consciousness, made her escape. She attacked the guard crouched by her, who was mesmerised at the undead lab assistant walking towards his CO, by slitting his throat with her long nails. While the guard bled to death, hands clasping the wound, blood seeping through his fingers, the girl ran past Crackhorn and the others into the hallway.

_That's it!! This dickhead is really pissing me off._

McVarian let one hand leave the weapon, made a fist and drove it straight into Sarton's face. The scientist fell to the floor with a black eye and the lieutenant fired at the undead man, three shots to the heart.

The undead man staggered for momentarily before resuming his advance. McVarian fired another three-round burst in his chest. Still no effect. McVarian lined up the gun with the man's head and fired; the man slumped backwards, his brains exploding onto the wall behind him, falling to the floor and his blood making a large puddle around him. The lieutenant lowered his weapon and stared at the corpse, wondering what had just happened when Crackhorn walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern edged in his voice.

McVarian just nodded without saying anything, still staring at the man.

_He...he became a zombie. Man, this virus is weird._

Zombie was the only good way to fully describe what he had become and what he was for those few seconds. He knew that the Progenitor could cause, thanks to Sarton's explanation, but seeing it first hand was still surprising to say the least. Crackhorn stepped forward, kneeling next to the corpse and examined the blood on the floor.

"His blood's coagulated. The theories were true," he said quietly.

"So the Progenitor can revive dead humans." McVarian stated, crouching next to Crackhorn and looking at the man's face. His eyes were glazed over and his pupils seemed to have turned a milky-white. His skin was completely pale except for the blood covering his lips.

Suddenly a disturbing thought came to McVarian's head.

"How does the virus spread?"

Crackhorn scratched his head in thought before replying,

"Well, it starts out as an airborne vector, for about 2-3 hours then it goes inert. But, it is spread through direct fluid transfusion into other beings. Saliva, urine, blood, even sweat can spread the infection if it gets in open wounds. At least, that's what Marcus had told us."

McVarian thought this through carefully, thinking over everything he was told and what he had seen.

_So if you are bitten, then that means..._

He drew his Beretta, quick-spun and fired at the dead guard, who was raising his head to bite an unsuspecting assistant's leg, the bullet hitting him through his temple. McVarian left the bodies for the scientists and hurried out into the corridor. If the girl escaped to the city and she was caught, it would have dire ramifications on their future company.

He headed for the stairs when a sickening crack echoed throughout the wide hall; at the bottom of the stairs lay a guard's body, his neck at an awful angle. McVarian ran past the body and took the stairs two at a time, chasing after Lisa who was nearing the lab entrance. He rounded the top of the staircase and ran to the double doors at the end of the landing, bursting through and scaling the ladder quickly. At the top, he caught a glimpse of Lisa running to the elevator; he reached the top and sprinted for the elevator-

-just in time to see the girl jump onto the roof of the elevator and start scaling the cable to the surface. He followed suit, climbing the cable as fast as he could and chased the girl up the stairs in the fountain. He grabbed hold of Lisa only to receive a punch across his face, knocking him across the courtyard. He scrambled to his feet, but Lisa had vanished into the woods, disappearing amongst the dark shadows cast by the trees.

_I am in waist-deep shit now. Damn!_

He rubbed his forehead to wipe away the sweat. He was afraid. Not of Sarton's reaction. Not the fact that the girl had escaped.

But that Lord Spencer would be greatly annoyed...

Spencer was displeased. No, he was furious.

He expected the scientists to get the research data from Lisa on the affects of the Progenitor and the guards were to keep everything under control. Although they acquired some interesting factors on the Progenitor itself, they had lost four employees, three guards and a lab assistant. Even worse, Lisa had escaped into the woods; she could be anywhere. Furthermore, Marcus was beginning to hold back important research for himself.

_Marcus. You are really trying my patience to its thinnest point._

One day, Marcus will have to be put in his place. He was only alive because he was still of some use to him and their future company, but he was digging a particularly deep hole. And if he kept digging, it would be his grave.

Spencer clutched the cane tightly and gazed out the window of his office, admiring the estate grounds for a few seconds before turning to the three people behind him.

Sarton was sitting in one of the plush armchairs in front of his desk, one hand a bag of ice over his left eye. Crackhorn sat in the other armchair, his head downcast and clutching his hands tightly together. McVarian stood between the two scientists, standing at ease, hands behind back, feet comfortably apart, eyes straight forward out the window. Spencer tapped his fingers on the silver cane-head, glaring at each of them behind his small glasses.

"What is your excuse?" Spencer asked, his voice edged with anger.

Sarton stood up and moved his hand away from his eye, revealing the large black bruise forming underneath it.

"This idiot," he claimed, pointing at McVarian, "failed to take full command of the situation and let the girl escape. Because of him, we have lost-"

Before he could speak any further, Spencer pointed the tip of his cane at the scientist's face, causing Sarton to wince and back away.

"The situation was entirely on your watch, Dr Sarton. You were to make sure the room was secure. You failed. The girl was to be sedated. You failed again. And despite the fact that you were able to get some interesting data on the Progenitor, you have just let THE GIRL ESCAPE FROM THE ESTATE GROUNDS!!!!" he bellowed, his face becoming red with rage, his breathing ragged and his hands twisted around the cane tightly.

Sarton backed away, sweat dotting his forehead and his skin going pale. Crackhorn tried to push himself back into the seat to get as far away as he could from Spencer's temper, whimpering slightly. McVarian just stood at ease silently, preparing for the worst. Spencer took several deep breaths and began pacing the space behind his desk, his hands tapping his cane in a river as he thought over what had happened.

_This is a disaster!_

Lisa was in the woods, anywhere to hide in that vast expanse of woodland, waiting for anyone to come to her. And if the local populace began to disappear, the police may come into the mountains and discover the mansion and it would all fall apart. In addition, if George Trevor figured out what had happened to his family, he would blow the whole thing wide open.

"This situation must be rectified immediately. That girl must be tracked down and brought back to the labs," he ordered.

McVarian sighed. He replied, "Sir, we have barely any security personnel left to accomplish this task. And we'll need more research staff for the labs."

Spencer glared at his subordinate momentarily. He was right of course. They were severely short-handed to locate the Trevor child; Raccoon Forest was too vast for the remaining security personnel to cover and the labs were too unprepared to contain her.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Spencer said.

The door opened to reveal a man with greying brown hair, a large muscular build, a scar over his blind left eye, a blue trench coat bearing the hammer and sickle badge of the USSR, white combat trousers, black combat boots, a German Luger in a holster around his right thigh and a double-edged blade twirling in his right hand.

"Greetings Comrade Spencer. I trust this isn't a bad time?" the man asked in a thick Russian accent.

Spencer smiled and held out his hand, which the Russian shook.

"Sergei, my old friend! What are you doing here?"

Sergei stepped back, snapping a quick salute. "I came here to give you some extra security and research staff I had. I also came to receive a performance evaluation on the Spark Shots I loaned you," he explained. He turned to McVarian. "Were they satisfactory?"

McVarian nodded. "Yes sir. But the subject resisted the damage and escaped us."

Sergei's expression went cold and he turned to Spencer. "Really, Mr Spencer?"

Spencer nodded and slumped into his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Unfortunately, yes. And we have no way of capturing her."

Sergei rubbed his chin for a few moments. "I'll catch the child," he stated. "Leave it to me."

Spencer looked up at him. "If you can find, bring her back. Alive. We need her for the experiments."

"I'll bring the Trevor child here before long," he exclaimed.

The Russian colonel left the room quickly, nodding with respect towards McVarian before he left. Spencer was glad that Sergei didn't mind McVarian being involved in their business and they both seemed to have a mutual respect between them. It came from their similar pasts and circumstances before Spencer had employed them.

They were fierce soldiers for their country, fighting for the government that trained them. Until the end of WWII and the start of the Cold War; McVarian was rejected from re-joining the armed forces, his psychological evaluation was against him, and Sergei was discharged from the army, believed to be too much of a threat to the fragile peace between capitalism and communism.

But Spencer had hired them because he would need good soldiers to follow his orders to the letter and have them trained for _any_ type of situation. Sergei would do well in training the front-line grunt fighters and enforcing the loyalty of the employees, while McVarian would soon be in charge of training the specialists group that they would soon form.

He waved his hand dismissively and the three men walked out, leaving him alone in his plush, decorated office. He picked up the phone and dialled Marcus' laboratory number. Marcus had better have a good excuse for his lack of updates...

**I decided to include to a bit of McVarian and Sergei's past into this story because I wanted to explain how they joined Umbrella.**

**McVarian is my original character so I am making up his past as I go along. As for Sergei, I am using the information I had aquired from Umbrella Chronicles to write about his past. And Lisa is a key character in the series as well, even though she is only in one game, so I am giving her a bit of an explanation of her part in the story.**

**Thanls to everyone who has read and reviewed my story. I really appreciate it and I hope you keep writing your own stories for this series (especially my favourite authors).**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter!!**


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

Lisa stumbled through the tunnels, her feet sliding across the slippery stones. She didn't leave the mansion grounds, she couldn't leave without her mummy and returned to find her. She couldn't go back inside, the men were waiting. So she hid in the tunnels and searched through them all.

She dropped to her knees near a pool of water and scooped some up in her hands, taking a much needed drink. The water was soothingly cool against the heat in her throat and tasted sweet like some kind of food she couldn't remember. The food had involved small multi-coloured balls wrapped in bits of a clear material, that her mummy would get for her if she did good things. She could barely remembered that she savoured and adored the taste of the little things, but now she couldn't remember the taste or their names.

Her memory was fading away, seeping through her fingers like sand near the sea. No matter how hard she held on to them, she couldn't keep them with her. However, two memories stayed firm in her head, the rocks in her hand that didn't slip away with the sand. They were the faces of a man and a woman, both smiling at her with love and affection, calling her name.

_Daddy...Mummy...Where are you?_

She had spent two days looking for them, two days stumbling through the tunnels and trees, trying to find her parents. Her mother's face was still with her. She would never let it go and would hold on to it until she found her mother. Lisa walked through the tunnels until she came to a small metal door set in the cavern wall.

She stepped through into a large open vault, the metal gates standing open on rusty hinges and a small tunnel leading away at the opposite end of the vault. She liked this place, it looked nice, it felt like home and was quite warm. She could make this place her new home until she found her parents and left to their real home. Some new things were needed for her home to be ready, she'd need food and water, and a cosy place to sleep. But otherwise, this place was fine for the moment.

She stayed there for a few minutes to catch some rest and dream. Dream about the memories she was starting to lose in the burning red inside her head. She could only remember the recent memories more clearly. Of the men who kidnapped her mother and taken her away. Of the fake who stole her mother's face and tried to trick her staying. Of the men who tried to stop her from escaping and the run into the woods from the big man with the gold shoulders. She couldn't remember anything beyond those glimpses, nothing else came to her and when she tried to catch them, they fluttered away like butterflies.

_Mummy. Did you forget about me? Did you leave me?_

Lisa felt the sting of tears come to her eyes and let out small, racked sobs of loneliness. She missed her mummy so much! She only wanted to be with her forever. But, the men wouldn't let her find her mother.

And that meant, she had to find her mother herself. She would do whatever to find her mother and once she did, they would find father and be a family again. She stood up and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, smearing her face with blood from her fingertips. She went down the other tunnel, through an underground river and scaled two ladders until she reached a wooden door in the roof.

She pushed it open and climbed out, stepping into a small cabin; this place seemed a harsh contrast to the palace she had been imprisoned in but decided to waste no time here and left. She crept through the long grass outside the estate walls, walking around the mansion until she spotted a person walking along a stony path, coming towards her.

Her eyes widened in shock and amazement. She looked like a normal young woman, not really different from other people and Lisa didn't really know her, but it was her face that captivated her.

_She has the same face as mummy!!_

It was true! Her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her skin and hair. All of it was like her mother's. And Lisa felt a large urge build up inside of her to possess it.

_Must have face!! Face belong to mummy!! Face, must take FACE!!! Be together always!!_

She leapt from the trees and charged at her, fingernails held forward in the direction of the woman. The woman screamed as Lisa jumped on her and she started shrieking in agony when her face was taken, revealing the slimy, white object beneath her face. Lisa stared at the spasming corpse for a few minutes, wondering why she screamed and fought back. All Lisa wanted was her mother's face and stay with her mother forever, even if her faces were on these fakes.

She thought over where to go to find her mother and decided to head back to the fountain with the stairs. That was where they were taken and that would be the best place to look for her. She placed the new face on her head and continued on down the path towards the fountain.

She listened to the strange noises that came from the trees around her but couldn't remember what they were. The burning sensation in her mind consumed all her memories and shrouded what was left in red, making it impossible to see anything for the memories she lost.

She walked through another group of trees and found the fountain, except it was now full of water, hiding the stairs from her. She walked up to the fountain and peered over the edge into the clear blue waters sloshing inside. Except it wasn't her reflection she saw in the water.

It was her mother's smiling face.

Lisa reached and tried to touch her, but the touch made ripples appear on the water and wipe away the image. She stared longingly at the image, waiting for it to return but to no avail.

Suddenly, a familiar smell caught Lisa's attention. She sniffed the air, trying to place the source of the smell and what was so familiar about it. Then, it dawned on her. She could never forget that smell.

_Mummy!!!_

It was her mother. She was near. She continued to sniff the air to follow the smell. She looked around and spotted a set of double metal doors set into a solid concrete wall-

-and a small hut off to one corner of the fountain. She walked over to the hut and found nothing inside except a large pipe sticking through a round metal floor with a small box on the metal pipes standing around it.

She pushed one of the strangely coloured buttons and the floor started to go down with a soft _hum_. As it reached the bottom, she caught the scent again, stronger this time and down the tunnel in front of her. She ran down the tunnel at a full sprint, excited at the prospect of seeing her mother again. She soon came to the source of the stench, only to find a large stone coffin in the middle of a stone platform, surrounded by a deep chasm.

Lisa smelt, knew, her mother was inside there and hurried over to the coffin. She pushed the coffin lid as hard as she could but it wouldn't move; the only sound it made was a metal _clunk_. She looked over the coffin and saw four steel chains sticking out of each corner, looped through a small circle object hanging from the roof and attached to four large stones at the edge of the platform.

She spent several minutes trying to open the coffin by pulling on the steel chains and pushing the coffin lid or the stones, but with no success. She soon began crying and started to feel tired. She lay down and curled up next to her mother's coffin, taking whatever comfort she could get in the close proximity of her scent.

_Mummy, I'm here. Why won't you come out?_

She fell fast asleep in a few seconds, tears leaking down her cheeks as she dreamt of her mother...

The next day, November 18th. George Trevor strolled through the courtyard gardens, admiring the flowers around him with whatever attention he had left.

_Lisa, Jessica. Where are you?_

He stopped and sighed, his shoulders slumping and his mood getting depressed. He hadn't heard from his family in several days ever since he arrived at the mansion and he couldn't get in contact with them. There wasn't a single phone on the estate anywhere, almost as if the place was intentionally isolated from the rest of the world. He constantly wanted to leave and had questioned Spencer about it, but he always said not to worry and that they would come back soon.

_Still, how long does it take to visit a sick relative?_

He walked into the main part of the courtyard, where the waterfall was running down into the small ponds on either side, and began to think. It had been eight days since they were to arrive and then they had to leave. Furthermore, Spencer never told him what hospital they went to, who was the relative, when they will be back and didn't show him a phone he could use to call for them.

If his suspicions about the previous days were bad enough, this was making him feel a lot more anxious. First the military helicopters, then the fact that he couldn't contact his family. But the increase in security was really unnerving. Not to mention half the guards looked worried about something.

Something really had the guards spooked. They were constantly on patrol, armed with machineguns and shotguns. They seemed on edge, as if they were expecting something to happen and wanted to be ready for it. He would have asked Spencer, but he probably wouldn't tell much of anything.

_What are you up to Spencer?_

Spencer was up to something and it was not going to be good. His lieutenant was organising all the patrols to stay on constantly changing shifts between day and night. Spencer himself seemed to be always preoccupied on his own phone to someone, not allowing him to use it for some bureaucratic reason. And then there was that military man. George couldn't hide the fear and revulsion he felt from being near that guy. It was like he gave off this foul wave of something terrible he wanted to keep hidden.

And it was coming out into the open with his bizarre habits.

_He keeps cutting himself with his own blade. He is way too creepy._

George once saw the man cut his right cheek and clenched the blade so hard his hand started to bleed. After this weird display of masochism, he went into the forest. Maybe he just wanted to go hunting? That was his first thought. But then he thought it had something to do with the increased security around the estate.

As George decided to move on, he spotted something that shouldn't really be around in the area. Behind the waterfall, he could see a small tunnel ending with a ladder going downwards, into the underground.

_That wasn't part of my design! I never included that._

Now this was really getting strange. Somehow, he knew Spencer was responsible for this new construction and kept George in the dark to keep him from finding out.

He wondered what to do about this latest discovery. Spencer would deny it if asked and the guards would make sure he didn't go snooping. So, he looked around to make sure nobody was around and started towards the waterfall. If this involved his family, he was going to investigate. He approached the edge of the water splashing across the cobblestone paving-

-and was grabbed roughly from behind by two of the guards. They dragged him back from the waterfall towards the mansion, ignoring his struggles to get free.

"What are you doing?" he asked, perplexed at their actions.

"Sorry Mr Trevor. But by orders from Mr Spencer, you are not permitted access to that area or any other areas of the estate. Excluding the mansion itself and the courtyard," the guard explained.

They took him back towards the rear entrance and let him go, before heading back to their posts. George brushed himself down and stared at the pool of water, through the gate opposite the shed he now stood in front of, being drained to make the waterfall. Something was going on, had been going since the mansion was built days ago. And George couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that his family's disappearance was involved as well.

_Don't worry Jessica, Lisa. I'll find out what's really going on._

He knew that he'd have to tread carefully, but Spencer had made the foolish assumption that he was too ignorant to know what was going on. So he would be fine as long as he didn't do anything stupid.

With unanswered questions running through his head and the worry he had for his family growing in him, he headed back inside to find some answers...

Spencer read the report over his lunch meal. His meal consisted of some finely boiled vegetables soup, bread covered in low-fat butter and a drink of wine. The report was of the recent deaths that had been occurring around the mansion grounds, thanks to the endeavours of Miss Lisa Trevor.

_This is getting out of hand. She must be brought in and her father taken care of soon._

He clenched his fists. Lisa had so far evaded the security forces and killed several more employees. She was attacking from somewhere in the nearby region, but they couldn't find where. Sergei was also taking too long in tracking her down, but Spencer knew that his old friend from the East would find her hiding place and catch when she was least expecting it.

And if that wasn't enough, George was now snooping around, sticking his nose where it didn't belong. The guards had caught him trying to head into the tunnels and, although he thought he was safe, Spencer knew he was checking the mansion for clues. Soon, the mansion's integrity would need testing and George Trevor disposed off.

He looked up from the report, glancing over the rim of his glasses at his secretary standing in front of his desk, hands folded in front of her. "How many are dead?" he asked, letting the paper slip from his hands onto his desk.

Laura's expression turned solemn and afraid. "Seven are now reported dead. Six researcher and one guard," she stated, her voice failing to hide her fear of her boss' reaction.

Spencer pulled out a cigar from a silver case in his left breast-pocket and stuck it in his lips, lighting it up. "Cause of death?"

"Some died from the face trauma. Others had beaten or strangled to death. The guard was partially eaten."

He blew out the smoke. "Where are the bodies?"

"Inside cold storage. Until we find a proper way of disposal, that's all we can do."

"Any reports from Sergei?"

"None."

Spencer nodded and thought over what do for a few more seconds.

"Have McVarian keep his eye on George Trevor. If he makes any chance at leaving or finds out too much, tell him to lock him up in the prison section," he ordered, taking another puff on the cigar.

Laura nodded and left. Spencer glanced at her, watching her slender hips sway from side to side as her long and slim black-stocking clad legs took short steps to the door.

Spencer was not ignorant of the beauty that most women he had the pleasure of meeting possessed. He found his secretary to be a very attractive and highly brilliant young woman. But now was not the time to gawk at the attributes of members of the opposite sex. Many steps needed to be taken to resolve these growing problems...

**I am having computer troubles at the moment, so I may not be able to update my story as soon as I want. My brothers keep constantly fucking up my computer and my account has difficulty uploading new chapters.**

**Apologies to everyone. I am trying to get this finished and uploaded onto the site as quickly as possible but it is really difficult.**

**Thanks Chaed for reading and reviewing my story, but I am sorry if I don't update it fast enough. The server on my computer doesn't register the update as it claims 'the page won't be displayed'.**

**Thanks a lot. Please keep writing your story Chaed, you and everyone else who has reviewed my story.**

**Be patient for chapter 10.**


	10. Chapter 10

Ten

Sergei had been tracking this girl for some time and he believed he found some kind of pattern to her behaviour. She spent several hours outside in the estate grounds to hunt for food or steal the faces from other people, out of some delusion she kept thinking about. Afterwards, when night arrived, she'd either disappear into the tunnels near the fountain by the heliport or head into a small cabin located in a small clearing located about a few yards away from the mansion.

Sergei had spent most of his childhood as a tracker. His father had been a hunter and had taught him everything about catching prey. His father also taught him the first things he had learnt about being a soldier, due to his experience in the First World War. Sergei had been born on 1923 in a small village outside Stalingrad and when the Nazis began their invasion of the town, he immediately signed up to the first commissioner he found. He quickly scaled through the ranks due to his courage and devotion to the Soviet Union, his skills on the field of battle, his brilliant tactical mind and his natural leadership qualities, and by the middle of the war, he became a Colonel.

He led his troops to many victories in the war and was one of the first Russian military leaders to step inside the German capital. He remembered the celebrations afterwards, the nights he spent awarding medals and drinking with his men, telling stories about their families back home and what they would do once they returned home.

But then came the Cold War. The Soviet Union now had this obligation to become more superior than the United States of America in every basis on the planet. It divided the world in half to prevent them from interacting with one another and began remained in a state of fragile peace. Sergei was soon discharged from the army as a way of showing that there was to be peace between the West and East. However, the real reason was that they were afraid that Sergei would destroy the installed peace and plunge the world into a Third World War.

They knew that Sergei was the type of man who fought brutally to destroy the enemies that threatened his country. And since America was being shown to be the enemy of this Cold War, Sergei would probably have attacked the USA in a bid to defeat them. So, he was cast out.

After that, Sergei wandered across his country, looking for anything he could dedicate his life to and a place to call his home. His family had been killed by the Nazi attack on Stalingrad. His soldiers were either back in civilian life or buried amongst the dead. And he had to watch his country ruin itself, in its futile attempts at achieving global dominance and superiority. America had more power and more wealth at its disposal; nothing his former country could do would make it any more powerful than America.

Then, he met Lord Oswell E. Spencer.

_That was the day I found a new purpose and a new home._

Mr Spencer had arrived in Russia on a scientific expedition to acquire samples of bacteria, viruses, and animal and plant DNA. He claimed he was looking for a medical breakthrough, the perfect organism to spend his entire life, wealth and power on. But he had been seeking for a guide and a representative from Russia to work for him. He offered Sergei a position as a fellow comrade in his work and a chance of permanent employment. Now, Sergei had finally found a place to call home and would do whatever it took to keep it safe.

And that safety lay in the power of the Progenitor. The virus that defied the laws of life and death, to the very brink of reality. That created creatures not even the nightmare's of the demented could fathom. And if properly used, it could create an army that couldn't be defeated.

Sergei began to feel an immense sense of pride and victory. America and Russia had constantly been fighting to see which was the better one in space travel, industry, economy and military power. But Spencer had created something that not even the West or East could hope to achieve, something that would change the course of humankind and create a more promising future.

_But first, the child must be brought back to the mansion._

Lisa Trevor was one of their first breakthroughs with the virus and could become a major factor in the advancement of their experiments. But if she escaped, the public would know about the Progenitor and their future plans would be compromised before even beginning.

Suddenly, Sergei spotted the child walking through the trees, heading towards the cabin in the clearing. Her entire head was now covered with human faces, fixed in expressions of extreme agony and terror. Her clothes were ripped and torn in several places, revealing pale skin underneath. She stopped and sniffed the air for a few seconds before stumbling away into the trees, rustling leaves and snapping twigs as he did.

Sergei stood up on the tree branch he was perched on and slit his blade across his lips, a trickle of blood flowing down his chin.

"Sorry, little one. But it's for the greater good," he claimed, as if saying those words for the girl to hear.

Everything had to be done. For his new home. For Mr Spencer. For his pride and duty. But more importantly, for his new home that would soon arise as the greatest power on Earth.

He smirked. "Everything for Umbrella."...

George Trevor had so far found no leads. He had checked everywhere he could without the guards or Spencer knowing but so far came up with nothing. He didn't want to succumb to the dreadful feeling in the back of his mind, but he was worried that had happened to his family. They still had not returned from their 'visit' to the sick relative that Spencer told him about.

George had found some bizarre things around the mansion lately though, things that he knew could only be bad news. He had seen men and women dressed in white lab coats wandering around the mansion at night, taking computers, microscopes, chemicals and other scientific equipment somewhere inside the mansion. He couldn't follow them because the guards were, under Spencer's orders, to keep him in his room until dawn. The only reason George knew about the scientists was that he had heard them outside his room, talking about some kind of experiment, and he observed some of them heading into the courtyard from his bedroom window.

He knew they were disappearing into that tunnel under the waterfall, but with the guards around, he couldn't go investigate to find out what was going on down there. He knew that this 'experiment' had something to do with his family; he didn't know why but the feeling of dread kept his mind along that particular path.

He clenched his fists. Spencer was in on this, no he was behind it and he was keeping in the dark on purpose.

_Spencer. So help me, if you hurt my family, there will be hell to pay._

He did rarely anything each day except explore the mansion for clues. He made it look like he was just admiring his work, putting on a fake expression of pride and admiration. But he spent most of his time looking for clues on his family's whereabouts.

Now, it was November 20th, and he was becoming more depressed. He could no longer keep up the façade he fed to the people around him and people often stared at him as he past them in the hallways.

He decided to go for a quick stroll around the first-floor of the estate, wondering if a walk would clear his head and lighten his mood enough for him to think. He walked through the dining room, where half the guards were sitting around having their lunch break meals, and headed to the north-western wing of the mansion, just to glance out at the courtyard to ease his troubled mind. He was in the hallway outside the medical room when one of the guards cursed under his breath.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

The guard stomped his foot and cursed again. "I left my side-arm in my room," he explained, inclining to his empty side-holster.

George thought this was a golden opportunity to investigate more. He had never gotten inside one of the guard's quarters before and if he offered to help this man, he could inside his room to see if there was anything to tell him where his family would be.

"I'll get it for you," he offered, hoping his plan worked.

The guard nodded and pulled out a small key. "Here. My room's by the door to the tiger statue hallway. Can't miss it."

George nodded and walked towards the guard's room, opened the door quickly and stepped through, closing and locking it afterwards.

The guard's quarters were simple in design. Small, wooden floor, plain wallpaper, bunk-bed in one corner, bedside table and desk next to it, and a dresser and wardrobe to his left. He walked over to the desk and started pulling out drawers, rummaging through the contents. He found only some pictures, cigarette packets, beer cans, pencils, blank pieces of paper and a small knife. Nothing he could use.

He looked through the dresser and found only piles of clothes inside, no special object or significant note hidden. He opened the wardrobe and his mind started racing in suspicion again. He remembered that his wife had bought an antique fully functional shotgun for his birthday. It was an old Remington M870 and Spencer claimed that he had stored it some place safe. But the bizarre thing was that George was seeing a rusted, broken replica of the same gun in the guard's.

First the helicopters. Then the tunnels. The body-bags being transported off the estate. That spooky Russian man with the blade. The increase in security on the estate. The scientists and this experiment. Now there was this replica hidden away to make sure no one found it, almost like it was needed for something, maybe one of the mansion's traps.

_All right. This is getting too strange. I'll speak to Spencer one last time and then, I'm leaving. If my family are visiting a relative, I'll find out who._

He took the Beretta from the wardrobe and handed it to the guard before heading for Spencer's office. He knew that Spencer would try to deny it but George may have been ignorant due to his infatuation with his work; however, he wasn't stupid.

He reached Spencer's door and knocked twice before being admitted inside. Spencer was speaking to someone on the phone and hung up before leaning back in his chair, hands resting on the arms of the chair, waiting for George to speak.

"Mr Spencer, I appreciate the hospitality you have provided me. But I would have to say that I am leaving to find my family," he explained.

Spencer nodded and pulled out a cigar, lighting it up and taking a puff. He stared at George whilst doing this, never taking one glance at what he was doing.

He blew out the smoke, his face shrouded by the smoke momentarily. "You are getting too worried George. Just be patient."

George sighed and shook his head. "I am sorry sir. But it's been several days now and I can't wait any longer. I am leaving to find my family," he replied.

Spencer continued to stare at him, completely emotionless. "Very well. If that pleases you, then by all means. I won't stop you," he said as he spun his chair around to stare out the window.

George decided not to wait for his dismissal and left.

"George?"

He turned around to stare at the back of Spencer's chair, the cigar blown from the front of the chair was the only indication that Spencer was still sat there.

"I shouldn't worry too much. I promise, you will be reunited with your family. Very soon," he claimed.

George said nothing in response and left, heading to his room to pack. However, due to the chair facing the other way, he failed to notice the small, cold grin spread across Spencer's face...

Spencer grinned to say to himself a job well done. George was still accepting the lie and believed to have left the house. Although he intended to leave, he wouldn't leave the grounds alive.

_Time for Mr Trevor to be put to good use._

He pressed the intercom switch and waited for his secretary to answer.

"Yes Mr Spencer?" Laura's rich, eloquent voice asked.

"Laura, my dear. Please inform Ronald that Trevor is planning to leave."

"Yes sir. Anything else?"

"Yes. Tell him that Mr Trevor is to be," his grin widened into a demonic smile, "taken care of."

Laura took in a few breaths and confirmed his orders. He hung up and gazed out the window, watching the forces of nature playing out in front of him like a nature documentary without the narration. He thought over everything that had happened and what would happen in the near future. He would rule this world, that was his ambition, his real motive for this. Umbrella would be the greatest power in this world with him as the ruler.

_And it will soon come true. Once our company is formed, I will use the Progenitor to create the forces I need to rule this world. Then, the world will be mine!!!_

The sun continued its daily rotation over the earth, shining its gentle light on every living creature, even the cold, ruthless man sat in his office in his mansion, located deep in the tranquil paradise that was Raccoon Forest...

**I have managed to sort out the computer problems and am back to writing my story, and reading/reviewing other people's stories.**

**I am glad that I have some fellow writers who enjoy reading, probably as much as I enjoy reading theirs (which is, I have to admit, I like reading other people's stories tremendously).**

**I would also like to apologise if the later chapters aren't having as much detail as the first few chapters. I am writing everything that I think is appropriate in the chapter to explain in the all points that are found completely stupid (as other authors are doing).**

**Anyway, thanks again! Stay tuned for chapter 11!!**


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven

George grabbed all of his belongings (clothes, pictures, books etc.) and hurriedly stuffed them into his suitcase. He needed to get out of the mansion quickly before Spencer made up some excuse to keep him here. If his family were out there, he would find them and they would go home, and never go near Spencer again. If they weren't anywhere he could find them, he would go to the authorities and explain to them about his missing family.

_Right, that's everything. Now, wallet and keys?_

He felt around in his jacket pockets and found them in his right pocket. He shut and locked the suitcase, leaving it on his bed for now as he went into the bathroom for a moment. When he finished, he zipped up his trousers and packed everything else left in the room that belonged to him.

There was a knock on the door. He shut the last suitcase and answered the door, seeing a guard outside.

"Mr Spencer wishes to speak to you in the reception room. Please follow me."

George knew he shouldn't listen to the guard and just leave, leave while he still could. But he knew that if he disobeyed Spencer's commands, the guards may kill him before he could step three foot out the front doors. So he just nodded and followed the guard to the reception room, keeping his thoughts of leaving in the back of his mind. Besides, he needed to find out once and for all what this mansion's real purpose was, and what Spencer had been up to all this time.

He entered the reception room, which was the room with the pictures of jewellery and his daughter, and found Spencer gazing up at the picture of his daughter, hands clasped on the head of his cane. George stepped closer to Lord Spencer, ignoring the lieutenant and the two guards standing nearby, and waited for Spencer to speak to him. He knew better to speak when spoken to in the presence of someone like Spencer.

"Your daughter is a beautiful creature. I must say that I enjoyed her talent at playing 'Moonlight Sonata' on the piano," Spencer stated, turning to face him, a smile on his face.

George took a deep breath and composed himself before asking, "Mr Spencer, what is happening here?"

"Research and development, George," he stated very bluntly, as if he was talking about a simple subject like the weather.

"What do you mean?"

"Me and my business associates have discovered a new kind of virus, something that can change a human into anything we want. Sort of like patchwork. It's rather...interesting to work with," he explained.

George couldn't believe what he heard. It wasn't much detail, but he knew that what he had just said was unethical in context. He was saying that they could take a human being, splice him up and turn him into a freak. How anyone could discuss a topic like this as if it were something insignificant was beyond him

_He's completely mad._

George wanted to know more and what his family had to with it. He had to know why he had been lied to all this time.

"And why this mansion? Why here?"

"We needed a hiding place for the research. If the authorities found out about our work, there would be...complications," Spencer continued. His smile grew wider. "I guess I should thank you for building the estate in the first place."

George felt an immense amount of guilt hit him, like being kicked in the head. He had helped all along, unaware of course, but he was still an accomplice in this insanity.

"I see," was the only thing he could say to respond to the explanation. His mind suddenly flashed back to the body-bags. "What about the bodies? The ones your security took away."

"Failures. We had to dispose of them," Spencer said, his voice giving away no emotion whatsoever.

George felt the rage burning inside him grow larger. He couldn't believe that this man would sacrifice human life so willingly and didn't care about anyone who suffered from his work. They were people, living people, that he had experimented on and he just simply thrown them away like garbage. And he now realized that the dread of his family may well have been correct, but he needed to hold on to the hope that they were safe.

"Any my family?" he finally asked, clenching his fists.

"I told you not to worry about them. They are safe for the moment."

George couldn't help himself but to lunge at Spencer, his hands outstretched to catch this monster and throttle him. The guards stepped in and grabbed George by the arms, holding him back. The lieutenant stood in front of George and glanced at Spencer, who nodded his head.

The lieutenant punched George in the stomach, causing him to hunch forward, gasping for breath. He looked to see Spencer pull out a syringe filled with a clear liquid, pushing down on the plunger to make sure the syringe wasn't blocked.

He stepped closer to George, who continued to struggle in the guards' arms.

"I am dreadfully sorry, Mr Trevor, but you cannot be allowed to leave. You know too much and I had promised you that you would see your family soon," he said, gesturing to the lieutenant.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY FAMILY, YOU SICK BASTARD!?!" George yelled, making no attempt to hide the rage he felt.

The lieutenant rolled up George's sleeve to show his arm and tied a piece of cloth around his elbow to expose the veins. As Spencer stuck the syringe in George's arm, he turned to look George in the eye and smiled maliciously.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...I am afraid your family have sadly died," Spencer informed George coldly before pushing down on the plunger.

George eyes widened in shock and tried to deny what Spencer had just told him. Jessica and Lisa, his wife and daughter, the most precious people in his life were dead, murdered by this maniac and his men.

_No it can't be true!!! It's a lie!! They are safe, I know it!!!_

He felt extremely dizzy and tired, and fell to the floor, the guards releasing his arms and letting him fall to the floor. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at Spencer, who looked down on him with that evil smile. He started to lose focus in his eyes and his vision began to darken, his body succumbing to the sedative injected in him.

"Spencer...you...bastard," were the only words he managed to say before he fell unconscious...

Lisa had spent many days out in the cabin or spent time with her mother in the underground. She didn't need to worry about food or water, the cabin had plenty, and she didn't feel lonely because she could just stay with her mother whenever loneliness started setting in.

She had encountered more fakes sent to trick and capture her, though now they were wearing the face of her father as well. She took away all the faces from the fakes and killed them. They were bad people and deserved what they got for hurting her parents. Some of them tried fighting back with strange metal things that burst with fire or sharp pointed objects.

She just wanted to be with her parents forever and these fakes kept trying as if the faces they wore belonged to them. But the old man with the shiny stick was a very bad man and wanted to keep her away from her parents.

_I hate him! Why does he hurt mummy and daddy? Mummy, Daddy, please be safe. I want to go home with you._

Water came through her eyes. Why couldn't she see them again? Why couldn't she just go home and stay with her parents? Why did this have to happen? What had they done? All these questions kept coming to her mind over the days and she didn't know any of the answers to them. And really, she didn't care; all she wanted was her parents.

She decided some of the strange food in the cabin and have some water. She ate her fill and nestled on the couch by the fire, staring into the flames dreamily. She liked the fire, it was her only friend. It seemed to want to help her and every time she watched it, it showed the faces of her parents, smiling at her, love and affection in their eyes. And from these visions, she would find peaceful dreams to fall asleep to.

Suddenly, she caught a scent, which snapped her out of her dreaming. She sniffed the air and growled; she recognised the scent as one of the fakes, a male fake, no doubt wearing the face of her father.

_I must get daddy's face back!!_

She got up from the couch and headed to the door...

Sergei watched the cabin through his binoculars, observing her through the windows, watching her movements. He stood on a sturdy oak tree, one hand holding firmly onto the branch above while the other held his binoculars over his eyes. He watched the girl eat her meal and then lie down on the couch in front of the fire.

He had watching the girl for days, gathering a pattern and deciding which time to capture her. He didn't go back to the mansion for anything, no food or water or sleep. He scrounged food from the local wildlife of badgers, raccoons and birds, took water from the river and slept in the trees, keeping himself perched securely and stationary to prevent him from falling off. He now had the perfect chance to grab the girl and take her back to the labs.

However, she had picked up his scent and was coming outside to find him. He put away the binoculars, pulled out his blade and licked it, cutting his tongue in the process so he got the coppery taste of blood.

_Time to finish the hunt._

The girl came through the door and looked around, growling in rage for some reason he couldn't guess to. Her clothes were torn even more than before, showing more of body and the wounds that had healed over. All the faces she had taken were placed all over her head, shoulders and were now having to be placed on her back. Her eyes were clearly visible through the montage of screaming faces, dark, intense and containing the hint of insanity as they scanned the trees for him.

He leapt down from the trees and landed in a crouch. The girl looked at him and snarled, stalking closer. Sergei smirked and stood up, bringing his blade up to his face and cutting his cheek. Lisa's eyes widened as if she was shocked by this display and she snarled even more ferociously as if offended terribly.

"You want my face little one, don't you?" he taunted. "Well then." He sliced his other cheek. "Come claim it."

Lisa charged at Sergei, hands held out in front of her to grab him. He dodged to side and slashed her arm as she went past. She stopped and quickly turned round, growling, blood running down her arm.

Sergei laughed mockingly. "You are infected with the Progenitor? You can't even catch me. I want to have a good fight." He gestured with his hands for her to charge. "Come, attack me."

She crouched low, seeming to get ready to charge-

-but instead, she leapt into the air at him, arms reaching for his face. Sergei sheathed his blade immediately and grabbed Lisa by the wrists, holding her back. She kicked her feet at him to get to let go so she could get at his face, but he nimbly threw aside. She landed on her side, letting out a grunt as she hit the gravel path, the blood from her arm dripping on the stones. Lisa soon stood up and turned to glare at him before picking up a rock and flinging it at his face. He quickly drew his pistol and fired at the rock, shattering it to pebbles; he smiled triumphantly.

"Like shooting on the rifle range in training, young one," he taunted.

She leapt at him again and he nimbly dodged aside, hitting her in the back of her head with the butt of his pistol. She landed on her feet unsteadily and staggered for a bit before she turned to face him. He held out his hand and flexed his fingers, smiling at her.

She once again charged and leapt at him, roaring in rage and fury, clenching her hands together as if to hit him. But he quickly drew a small black box from his uniform pocket and fired an electric shock at her face, sending her flying across the clearing, shrieking. She landed in the long grass near the trees and lay on the ground unconscious, taking in ragged breaths of air.

Sergei put away his weapons and walked over to the girl, picking her up and placing her over his shoulder. He was glad he packed that mini Spark-Shot and was even more glad that he had them developed at the weapons labs. The mini Spark-Shot was designed like a hand-taser and could be concealed anywhere on a person. It was mainly designed for the higher-ups of their future company as a way of protection against escaped test subjects. It was as powerful as the larger model and it worked efficiently enough that it should keep Lisa stunned longer than last time.

_Time to get you back to the mansion, young one._

He carried her over his shoulder and kept his weapon ready for any surprises as he made his way back to the mansion. This would please Lord Spencer very much...

**Read and review please! And keep writing your own stories! Can't wait to see more of your work!!**

**Up soon, chapter 12!!!**


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve

Spencer sat in the surveillance room of the labs beneath and watched the happenings inside the estate through the monitor images displayed from the cameras placed throughout the halls of his home. He had these installed so he could keep watch on everything that happened in the mansion and to make sure he was aware of what his employees were doing. He knew that people may call this paranoia on his part but in his line of work, paranoia was a good thing because you never know when something would go wrong.

So far, Dr Sarton was busy supervising the construction of a containment cell in the prison block to keep the girl locked up when she was brought back. Dr Crackhorn was in the main lab on floor B4 checking over the results from the experiment, running DNA tests and reading through notes that had been written down by the assistants. George Trevor was sat on the bed in his cell, eating a skimpy meal of bread and water. He had been imprisoned for four days since November 21st and he was still sitting there, thinking about his family and eating whatever food was given to him.

Spencer had ordered that the guards put a little additive in his meals every time he was to be fed. It was a nice little drug he had developed in his university years; it consisted of a very powerful chemical that caused quite a bit of memory loss. It would make George's planned escape through the estate more difficult.

He grinned, remembering the effects of the drug that it caused. The drug was designed to kill the synapses in the brain, both new and old, thus causing quite a bit of damage in nerve cell reactions. With the synapses dead, there was no one-way transmission in George's head so his thoughts and actions would literally be 'jumbled up'. His reaction range would be shortened considerably, making him react slower to any problem he would experience on his escape. His memories would be severely damaged, so he might have trouble remembering the layout and design of the mansion.

Although, there was very little known about the role of synapses in memory, so there was a chance that George Trevor would retain some of his oldest memories, such as his family for example. It seemed that he and his wife had a resistance to the drugs effects, keeping their memories of their family intact, but in the end, it made no difference. George would test the integrity of the estate's defences and he would join his wife beyond the gates of St. Peter, nothing more, nothing less.

He looked over the other monitors, to see the security still on duty, McVarian issuing new orders to some of the guards, and Laura busy typing up some documents and taking messages from callers on the office phone. But one image got Spencer out of his chair and hurrying through the labs, making him forget to pick up his cane. It was an image of the entrance to the laboratory, showing Sergei Vladimir being escorted by four guards and dragging Lisa Trevor behind him in chains. He hurried to the entrance and caught Sergei coming down the hall with the guards and the girl in tow, who smiled with victory and pride at him before saluting.

"Comrade Spencer, I found your runaway child," he stated, his voice containing the same sense of pride and triumph as his smile did.

Spencer smirked in response to Sergei's statement and his smirk grew wider as he looked down at Lisa, who glared back at him with her dark eyes.

"Well, Miss Trevor, it seems after your escapade, you still come back to be princess of this mansion," he said sarcastically.

Lisa roared and lunged at him but was pulled back by Sergei jerking the chain hard, causing her to fall to the floor. The guards raised and pointed their weapons at her, fingers on triggers and waiting for the order to fire.

Spencer kept the smile on his face as he continued to stare at her while she tried getting up and attacking him again. "I think she doesn't like me very much," he joked. Sergei laughed at his joke while the guards kept their eyes on Lisa and their mouths shut.

Spencer pointed to two of the guards. "You two, get a stretcher," he ordered. The guards nodded and ran off to get the stretcher.

Spencer turned to look at Sergei. "I'll go tell Dr Sarton and Crackhorn that the specimen has returned. You make sure that the girl is taken to the containment cell and secured properly this time. And make sure George Trevor doesn't notice."

Sergei nodded in response. "Don't worry, we'll make sure that he doesn't notice his daughter like this," he assured, pulling out the mini Spark-Shot and shooting Lisa in the back of her neck, rendering her unconscious. The guards returned with the stretcher, lifted Lisa onto the stretcher and carried her towards the prison cells.

_Well, that is that. No more problems or dangers now._

Spencer felt a wide sense of relief and happiness at this new development. Now that Lisa was back and there was no risk of her revealing their work by heading into the city, they could carry on with their work. The staff, both security and research, could sleep better knowing that the girl was sealed away for good, and Sarton and Crackhorn would be glad they could keep working with the Progenitor on the girl to get new results.

And Spencer now had the assurance that nothing could go wrong, so long as he kept a lid on things and made sure that everything went swimmingly. He went back to the surveillance room and picked up his cane before heading to the labs to inform the doctors that they had recaptured Lisa and the work could continue. He now felt better than he had in a couple of days..

Lisa felt cold and numb, with a faint tickling in the back of her neck. She could remember glaring at the demon that stole her parents and tried to kill him before she was pulled back sharply by the chain around her neck. She couldn't move her hands very much because the strange knife man had chained her wrists together when he took her back to the mansion. Now she was back in the house with the demon and his people, away from her mother who lay asleep in the coffin. She felt the loneliness sink her, the thoughts of never seeing her family again making a black hole suck out all the joy in her heart.

But she still felt the rage burn inside her and grow larger until it became a raging inferno. She wanted to punish them, to kill the demon who ruled and take back the faces that the fakes had stolen, to make them feel sorry for hurting her parents.

_I WILL NOT STAY HERE!! I WANT MY MUMMY AND DADDY!! I WANT MY MUMMY AND DADDY!!!_

Her eyes snapped to see the fakes all crowded around her, looking down on her with terror and shock in their panicked features. She lashed and kicked out at them, trying to push them away so she could escape and get to her parents. But the fakes pinned and strapped down her wrists and ankles, then her knees and elbows, her chest and waist, and finally her neck. When they had finished securing her and backed away, she could barely move at all besides squirming in the straps that held her place, roaring and snarling her fury and hatred at the fakes staring at her with fear.

Then, the knife man came in. He walked over to her bedside and smiled at her. She soon noticed that his face was not her father's face at all but his own. He had a long scar going down his right eye and some scabs healing from where he had cut himself with the knife. He said something but couldn't understand what he had just said and then he left. Before he left, he looked at her and smirked nastily at her. Lisa hissed at him; she didn't like his smile, it was too much like the demon's smile.

She wandered where the demon was and decided he was probably hurting her parents, doing horrible things to them. She roared and screamed in everlasting fury, hoping that the demon would hear and know, know that she would always hate him and that she wouldn't stop haunting him.

Soon, the men in white lab coats came in and started poking at with sharp objects while she continued to roar and scream...

The situation was hopeless, George knew it was, the door was heavily reinforced and he had nothing to try to pick the lock with. He had been confined in the cell for five days now and was really coming to the conclusion that he wouldn't get out of the mansion. He was given food and water from the guards, at least twice or three times a day, along with their taunting remarks about how he wasn't going to live longer. George knew that he was going to die, that Spencer would make sure of it.

_This was going to happen and was being planned to happen when I came here for the first time._

It was true. November 13th was the day his fate was sealed. He had come to realize that they had been using him and keeping him a prisoner since he first arrived, keeping him locked up in this estate with their lies about his family returning from visiting a sick relative and that there was nothing wrong. But he had come to the conclusion of Spencer's true intentions too late and now he was locked up in this cold, dank cell somewhere underground in this mad scientist's lair.

He suddenly remembered the lighter that Jessica had given him for his birthday. He didn't smoke but it was the thought that counted and meant so much him, thus he kept it with him to remind him constantly of her when he was away from her. He rummaged through his shirt, trouser and jacket pockets, and he didn't find it.

_Shit!! You idiot! How could you lose something like that? Something that meant so much to you, that your wife gave with all her love?_

He was actually surprised that he remembered the lighter and how he had acquired it in the first place. After he was put in this cell, he was losing his memories, losing them to this shroud that settled over his mind and he could barely remember anything besides his wife and daughter. He felt dizzy continuously, he couldn't think straight and stand upright with lurching all over the place, like he had gotten drunk at some business party at work.

He knew Spencer was behind this as well. Of course, everything was Spencer's doing. He knew that if anything happened to him in this cell, Spencer had ordered it; he glanced up at the camera perched in the corner and extended his middle finger to it. He didn't care about himself, he was dead anyway, but he hoped beyond any reason that his family were safe. They were all that mattered and as long as they were safe, he would die happy.

However, his mind wandered back to Spencer's cold, sinister words about his family, to the poison that was slowly eating away at his heart.

_'I am afraid your family have sadly died.'_

_No, it can't be true! They have to be safe and away from here, they MUST be!_

Or were they? They had arrived here three days before him, giving Spencer plenty of time to do what he wanted with them, to use them in his 'experiment'. He hoped that they were but he couldn't deny the facts that presented himself to him. One part of him stated that they were happy, safe and living their lives to the fullest, while the other claimed that they were dead, rotting in some unidentified shallow grave due to Spencer's sick tests in this lab. He didn't know what to think so he just sat on the mattress, his mind racked with conflicting thoughts and theories as his soul seem to lose all the life and hope he had left.

The guards came in and handed him his food, which he ate quickly. He was starved badly and could barely keep up his strength with the bread and water he was given for his meals. He thought he heard the guards say something but he couldn't register it in his head as he felt even more ill. The guards left, slamming and locking the large metal door behind them, their footsteps soon fading away into silence. George lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't dream. He had no idea what his tortured mind would show to him...

**I apologise but Wesker and Birkin will probably come into the story a little later than planned. But rest assured I am working on the chapters that he will be in.**

**I am currently writing chapter 17 and I will update more soon. I am certain Wesker will definitely come in on chapter 19. I am nearly finished writing up the pasts of the Umbrella founders and will soon be writing about Wesker+Birkin's past as employees of Umbrella.**

**Thanks to everything who has read, reviewed and favourited my story. I am glad that all of you are enjoying it and I hope you will all continue writing your own stories.**

**Thanks again!! See you at chapter XIII!!!**


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen

Spencer sat in his chair and watched George Trevor on the monitor pace around his cell, deep in thought. Sergei and McVarian stood to either side of Spencer's chair, both watching the same screen with blank expressions.

Spencer smirked in anticipation at what was to come. George Trevor himself would test out the integrity of the very mansion he helped create by sacrificing his own life. It seemed sort of ironic in a sense but Spencer didn't care, so long as they knew that the mansion was impregnable in every way.

Sergei cleared his throat. "We have sent all the scientists and security into the city to enjoy the next few days off, and to keep George Trevor from asking for food or help," he stated.

Spencer's smirk grew wider. "Excellent. Is the food locked away safely?"

"Yes sir. The cooks stored every scrap in the kitchen and locked it. Here's the key," McVarian informed Spencer, holding out the small key with the label 'kitchen' attached to it.

"We have also contacted our men stationed in the water works at the city. They have shut off the water here," Sergei added.

Spencer thought his head would split in half from the large smile on his lips. He had already bribed the water works, power station and Zoning Board into working for them, so now he could construct all the facilities he wanted in and around the city, with all the running water and power they needed.

Right now, he needed the water shut off and the food stored away for the next few days, to see if in that time George Trevor could escape from the building he had help create. He wanted to know how well a person with no familiarity with the mansion could survive in the halls if they were lost, which was why the drug was in George's food, to erase his memories of the design of his mansion.

_It's time to see how well you can stay alive in this house, Mr George Trevor._

Spencer turned on the computer console in front of him, typing in his name and password in quick rapid strokes. The screen lit up to the Umbrella logo, the red and white octagon, spinning into the middle of the screen with the name appearing underneath it. A blue bar began to fill up on the screen and blinked when it was full. The Umbrella name and logo shrank to a small size, flowing to the top left corner of the screen as a large grey box filled the centre of the screen.

"Welcome to the Umbrella Corporation Archives, Lord Oswell E. Spencer," a computerised, light-toned, female voice greeted. "Please select a subject from the menu."

One block appeared on the screen, reading 'Data Storage'. Another appeared underneath it, reading 'Umbrella Personnel List'. Then another which read 'Umbrella Satellite Control System'. And another which read 'Communication Network'. And a final one read 'Umbrella Facilities List'.

"Do either of you know about this?" Spencer asked in confusion, taking quick glances between McVarian and Sergei.

Sergei stepped forward with a small grin on his face. "This is one of the new pair of computer control mainframes that my computer-developmental department have installed. If you wish to know more, Comrade Spencer, access the Communication Network," Sergei advised him.

Spencer turned back to the console, moved the mouse pointer over the bar Communication Network and clicked it.

The voice came back and said, "There are no available communication networks at this time. Do you wish to speak to the mainframe itself?"

Spencer typed in 'Yes'.

"Greetings Mr Spencer. How may I be of assistance?" the voice asked.

Spencer typed in 'Who are you?'

"I am the Umbrella Corporation U.M.F.-013. But my codename is 'Red Queen'," the voice answered.

_A new computer mainframe for the corporation?! This is something I had never thought of._

Spencer was very glad that he had Sergei working with him. He seemed to be making new weapons and technology that their company would need in the future, and he was making them in advance, for when the corporation would become publicly established.

He then typed in 'Red Queen, what are your objectives?'

"My primary objective is the management and protection of Umbrella assets. My secondary objective is the protection of Umbrella officer lives," the 'Red Queen' explained.

Spencer was impressed. This mainframe could help him keep an eye on his future employees and their work. Had this been installed earlier, Marcus' lack of updates wouldn't have been a problem; anything he had put on his computers would be instantly downloaded and copied into the Red Queen's data storage. But it was too late to dwell on the past and it was more appropriate to look towards the future unfolding before them. Now, with this brilliant new monarch of computer AI and technology, their work would be more easy to continue and advance on.

_But what of this other mainframe?_

Spencer needed to know the objectives of the second mainframe, so he was on top of everything and wouldn't receive any surprises from a lack of knowledge already given to others. Spencer had always hated surprises because they showed that you hadn't planned them, hadn't known about them, thus losing control and he absolutely despised the thought of not being in control of anything because it would be a threat to him.

He typed in the question 'Could I access the other mainframe?'

"Yes, Do you wish for me to link you up to the U.M.F.-048?" Red Queen asked.

'Yes.'

A blue bar came on screen once again and the bar began to fill up with a blue line of light. When it reached full, the screen went black and a grey box appeared with bars to fill in called 'name', 'password' and 'fail-safe password'.

_Fail-safe?_

Spencer knew enough about computer programming to know that fail-safe meant sort of along the lines as the 'is that your final answer?' topic in quiz shows, meaning there was no turning back once you made an important decision. Spencer checked the piece of paper that Sergei had given him when he arrived in the room and filled in the boxes.

The screen soon changed to a shifting green and blue background, like the colours of the ocean, the Umbrella logo and name in the top left corner, and a large grey box came on the screen again.

"Welcome to the Umbrella Corporation Monitor Control Unit, Lord Oswell E. Spencer," a female computer voice greeted, much deeper than the Red Queen's. "Please select a subject from the menu."

Four more boxes appeared in the larger one. Each read, in order, 'Operation Instructions', 'Bio-Weapon Protocol Supplement', 'Communication Network' and 'Security Master Control'.

Spencer clicked on Communication Network, requested permission to speak with the mainframe and typed in 'State your name and objectives'.

"I am the Umbrella Corporation U.M.F.-048. My codename is 'White Queen'. My primary objective is the control and full utilisation of Umbrella Bio-Organic Weapons. My secondary objective is the management of all security systems in all Umbrella facilities," the mainframe informed him.

Spencer backed out of Communication Network and accessed Security Master Control, typing in 'List all security features in Arklay Laboratory'.

"List of security features in Arklay Laboratory. Surveillance Camera System, currently active. Secondary Laboratory lockdown and drainage system, currently inactive. Specimen cages, currently active; cages currently occupied, zero. Prison cells, currently active; cells currently occupied, two. Cell occupants: One)- Lisa Trevor. Two)- George Trevor. Self-destruct System, currently inactive," White Queen counted off.

_Self-destruct!?!_

This was the first Spencer had heard of this. He had never known such a device had been installed in the lab.

He typed in, 'Who authorised the installation?'

"Colonel Vladimir, Sergei," White Queen replied bluntly.

Spencer turned his chair around and stared at Sergei, keeping his expression neutral. "Care to explain this?" he asked.

Sergei looked downcast and ashamed. "My apologies, Comrade Spencer, but it had to be done. My computer and weapons departments both agreed that the labs needed a device that would wipe away evidence in case of an outbreak. We installed these 'self-destruct systems' as a final step to ensure complete eradication of the Progenitor. It is to keep our work safe and the shroud in place," Sergei explained.

Spencer let it all sink before he started to chuckle. His chuckles soon grew into full-fledged laughter and he continued to laugh, despite the incredulous looks on Sergei's and McVarian's faces. He couldn't help but laugh at the irony and complete puzzle of factors that linked to their future company.

He once said that the logo and name should fit the nature of their real work and their cover-identity. The logo showed the intent of both sides of their company; the red displayed the intentions of their cover-identity, a pharmaceutical company, as a way of benefiting health to the people of society, while the white was the symbolism of the shroud that was pulled over people eyes to hide their true work from the people.

And now, they had the two queens to rule both sides of the logo, one protected and preserved the health of the employees while the other commanded the creatures spawned from their true work. It was just so fitting that he had found it hilarious.

He soon calmed and focused on Sergei once more, putting one an expression of understanding. He did understand that his friend had only installed the system to protect their work, but it was the fact that Spencer hadn't been informed of this was the surprise for him.

"Don't worry, old friend," he consoled, "I perfectly understand your reasons for doing this and I am grateful for it. Your actions will help protect our work in the near future."

Sergei apparently didn't feel as he had pulled out his double-edged blade and cut open his arm, blood flowing down and dripping onto the floor. "Thank you for your kind words Comrade, but that doesn't excuse my lack of informing you about it. I had gone behind your back to install the systems when I should have gotten your permission. I deserve to be punished for my actions," he stated, his voice flowing freely with self-loathing.

"Why must you continually cut yourself?" Spencer finally asked. He had always wondered about Sergei's masochistic behaviour and thought now was the right time to ask.

"I have to suffer for my failures. I failed to save my family from the Nazi invasion of Stalingrad. I failed to lead my country to victory in the Cold War. I failed to uphold the honour of my men and country. And now, I operate behind the back of the man who gave me my new home. It is my way of punishing myself, making myself pay for my mistakes in life," Sergei explained, clenching the blade so hard that blood ran through his fingers.

Spencer left it at that, turning back to the console and typed in 'Activate lock timer on George Trevor's cell'.

"Please select designated time."

Spencer checked his watch. It was currently 12:13p.m., November 27th, so he set the timer to unlock the cell late in the evening. With that settled, he stood up , stretched to ease the cramps in his legs and back, picked up his cane, and turned to Sergei and McVarian.

"Well, now that the test is set, I suggest we join our fellow employees for the next few days to enjoy ourselves. McVarian, if you would be so kind as to get Laura and meet us by my car at the front entrance, Sergei and I will be there shortly," Spencer requested politely. Since everything was going well, he didn't feel like reverting to ordering people around.

McVarian snapped a brisk salute and left. Spencer and Sergei followed shortly, walking through the labs to the entrance.

When they boarded the elevator, Sergei asked, "Aren't you worried that Mr Trevor might leave the estate? What with the lack of security?"

Spencer smirked. "The poor fool's mind been so warped by that drug I kept slipping him, no sensible thought will actually enter his head to leave as soon as he gets outside. He'll just run around the mansion until he drops," Spencer stated coldly.

The elevator soon rose and the two men headed towards the car at the front entrance so they could head into town and enjoy some local entertainment...

_I got to get out of here!! Warn somebody about-_

_-But what can I do when I am stuck in here?_

George's mental state was getting worse and worse by the minute. He was losing more and more memories nearly every second, losing them like water running through a sieve. He felt really light-headed and found it increasingly difficult to stand straight or make his body move the way he wanted it to. All in all, he felt like shit.

He didn't know where the guards and scientist had gone but he couldn't hear them any more and no one was posted outside his cell. He wasn't getting any food and water, but he felt okay with that because he thought that maybe eating the food was making him sick. He spent most of his time just remembering the good times with Jessica and Lisa.

Such as the first time they went to the zoo and how they had to keep literally chasing after Lisa as she ran from one pen to another to gaze at all the animals. When they had played in Grand Central Park during last year's Christmas, where they had beaten him in a snowball fight, had made several snow angels on the grass and a snowman with a bright, large smile on his face like the one on theirs. When they celebrated Lisa's 14th birthday, taking her to the cinema to watch a Mickey Mouse film and then went for ice-cream afterwards.

But all those memories just made him more determined to escape from his cell. He wanted nothing more than those good times back, to experience more with his wife and daughter, and then go home and eat a family meal together. The simple things they had all come to enjoy. He wanted them back and Spencer wouldn't stop him, neither him, nor his freaky Russian friend, nor his lieutenant and soldiers, nor that monster they had locked in a cell the other day.

He lunged for the door and grabbed the bars tightly. "SPENCER!! I am not going to die here!! I have no intention of dying here!! I WILL escape with my family and go home!! You will be going to jail or the nut house for the rest of your life for these sick, twisted things you do here!! And there is nothing you can do to stop me!! You hear me!?! NOTHING!!!" he bellowed, shaking the door rapidly.

To his amazement, he shook it so hard, that the door opened and he fell through, landing on the cold, wet concrete floor. He felt on the ground around him, pinched his cheeks and looked back into his cell to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't.

He laughed and hollered with joy. He had gotten out of his cell! He was free!

_At least until the guards come for you. You have to find Jessica and Lisa then run to the city._

He stopped and refocused on the task at hand. If Spencer found out he escaped, the whole mansion would be searched thoroughly to find him. And he needed to find his family and get them out of here before Spencer did something horrible to them. But he hoped that he could remember how the mansion was designed through the large, thick fog that shrouded his memory.

_You have to try. Don't stand here debating. Get moving!_

He shook his head a little to clear the dizziness from it before he started for the stairs. First he would to search the labs for his family. If he couldn't find them here, then he would work his way through the tunnels and search the mansion. He just hoped the guards wouldn't catch him, especially that freaky Russian...


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen

The Ashford Family Residence on Rockfort Island was teeming with life and merriment. The main hall was filled with dozens of guests, all of them members of the Ashford family, dressed in suits and dresses, wearing extremely expensive jewellery and talking about how their businesses were progressing or how their lives had been so great over a glass of wine. Waiters and waitresses were passing through the crowd of people, trays of food and drink perfectly balanced on their hands as they walked around the room handing them around to the guests. The kitchen was teeming with chefs and cooks running around, hurriedly preparing their meals with finesse and perfection.

And on the balcony overlooking the main hall was a man and a woman watching over their guests with a regal aura emanating from them and a smile of satisfaction placed on their lips as they saw that the ball was going along swimmingly.

The man was in his late 30s/early 40s, with greying blonde hair combed back, a moustache combed to keep every hair in place, dressed a black blazer, blue shirt, white bow tie, silver cuff-links embroidered with the Ashford Family emblem, black trouser and black shoes. Edward was a man who wanted to keep everything in perfection because if it wasn't perfect, it would reflect on the Ashford Family name.

His wife, Madeline, was spectacular in every word and sense. Her long blonde hair that fell past her shoulders was put into long curls, with a diamond tiara encrusted with rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Her face was perfectly applied with make-up, the right amount of eye-shadow, lipstick and mascara bringing out her face in more radiance than ever. She wore a black dress that reached to her ankles with matching gloves that reached to her elbows and matching high-heels.

Edward tapped his wine glass loudly to draw everyone's attention. The room fell into silence and everyone looked towards Edward.

"First of all I would like to say that it is a great pleasure and joy to me to see my entire family gathered here today. Everyone from my parents and grandparents to all my distant relatives," he said.

"Very distant relatives! Some of us live in Eastern Europe!" someone exclaimed, causing everyone to laugh momentarily.

"Secondly, I would like to say I very proud I am of all my family for their wonderful achievements. And I would like to show my gratitude to my perfect wife for organising this celebration," he said, gesturing with his hand to his wife, who put a hand over her heart and the other over her increasingly red cheeks as the cheers rang out.

"Also," he continued, "my son Alexander will soon graduate from university and will join me in helping to build our future company, leading our family into a glorious new age, keeping us all as one of the world's first and finest."

The entire room was in an uproar of cheers, hoots, hollers and whistles from all the people for a few minutes before the atmosphere calmed down.

He held up his wine glass. "A toast," he proposed, "to our future company and glory."

Everyone held up their wine glasses. "To Umbrella!!!" they all chanted, striking their glasses together and creating an echoing _ting _throughout the room.

Most of the evening had been spent dancing, talking amongst the other family members or enjoying the meals expertly prepared by the cooks. Edward was enjoying himself tremendously at this party; he was glad that his wife had organised this to celebrate the formation of their future company. But he couldn't help but notice that someone or something was missing from the party, someone important. Soon, he realized what, actually who, it was that was missing; Spencer wasn't here. It seemed odd that he wasn't here since Madeline had sent him an invitation and this party was about the formation of their company, so he should be here as well to take part in the celebrations.

He had expected Spencer to have arrived as soon as the party had started, for Spencer was a man who prided himself on punctuality. He didn't tolerate being late for anything, be it professional, personal and entertainment; he was always on time and arrived precisely when he meant to arrive. Yet it was strange that he hadn't arrived at the party at all.

"Madeline, has Oswell arrived yet?" he asked his wife.

She looked around, confused, and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't see him here. I had sent him an invitation two weeks ago in advance about this. I wonder where he is?"

Before Edward could reply, his butler, Scott Harman, came up and tapped him on the shoulder, catching his attention. "Sir, Mr Spencer is on the phone for you," he calmly informed him.

_Speak of the Devil. At least I can speak to him about why he isn't here._

Edward followed his butler to the office and picked up the receiver lying on the desk. "Hello Oswell," he greeted, sitting back in his chair.

"I am sorry Edward, that I can't make it. But there have been some new recent developments that had acquired my attention over the past few days," Spencer explained over the phone.

Edward understood completely. From what he had known, Spencer had been extremely busy with testing the Progenitor on the human subject he caught and making sure his facility in the Arklay mountains was impregnable to intruders. Edward himself had been busy, testing the effects that the Progenitor could have on certain species of animals, recording the varying mutations that occurred.

He had actually talked with Marcus about his research, in which he was working on leeches with the Progenitor. That had been all Marcus had told him, telling him neither why he chose nor what theory he was testing with them. Despite Edward's curiosity and polite questioning, Marcus seemed to be very reclusive and wouldn't say much about it. In fact, he seemed to get extremely irritated by the questions and that Edward was even still speaking to him about it.

_That must be another development that Oswell has been busy with, Marcus' total absence in co-operation with us._

"Don't worry Oswell. My wife will understand," he reassured his friend.

Spencer sighed, obviously knowing that his wife had been planning this for some time and would be disappointed about his absence. "Tell her I am sorry, but we have many new additions to our future company and new assistance for our work," he stated. There was a brief pause before Spencer spoke again. "Have you seen the new mainframes?" he asked.

"You mean the Red and White Queens?" Edward replied.

"I see you have already found out about them."

"I have been storing all my research data in the Red Queen's data storage and have uploaded all my security system controls to the White Queen's master control," he informed Spencer.

"Very good Edward. I'll have a look over your reports to see what you have discovered for our corporation. In the meantime, I suggest you enjoy the party. Good day." With that, Spencer hung up.

Edward hung up as well and went out into the main hall, getting lost in the crowds and the merriment. He would continue working on the Progenitor later, but he would spend his current time with his wife in the party...

He was lost. That was all that was needed to sum up the situation George Trevor had put himself in. He had escaped from the cell two days ago and had only just found his way out of the labs and tunnels beneath the estate. Now, he was lost amongst the maze of hallways in the estate.

He had been searching for his family in the labs before heading out through the tunnels to the estate. He searched through all the rooms of the labs, the large main lab with the huge stasis tanks in the very bottom, the power room, the morgue and the other lab rooms. But he found no trace of his family anywhere in the labs. Come to think of it, he found none of the guards or the scientist anywhere either. The whole laboratory was deserted, yet he had dismissed the thought as just a stroke of good luck.

He then made his way out through the tunnels, no sign of the guards or scientist there either. He would have thought that was strange if he didn't have this terrible fever and throbbing headache. Every time he tried to remember any part of the estate, he lost it in a wave of pounding pain and scorching heat, losing it to the shroud that seemed to have permanently settled over his head. He just couldn't remember any part of the mansion's design, even though he could remember clearly he had helped build it.

He had also nearly got himself killed going through the tunnels. He was crossing over a new piece of construction that Spencer had obviously started without his knowledge and it had collapsed under his feet. He would have fallen to his death had he not tripped over a metal bucket that had been left out in the open and landed on the stone ledge on the opposite side.

He was now desperately trying to find a way out of the estate's halls but he still couldn't remember anything about the design. He thought about using a window to escape but couldn't because large metal shutters had covered them, with no way to raise them from any of the rooms, and all doors to the outside were locked and reinforced.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he felt even more considerably ill. He seemed to have this nauseous feeling buried deep in his stomach, his arms and legs seemed to ignore his commands to move the way he wanted them to move and he felt much weaker from being unable to find any food to eat, along with the growing depression that he hadn't found his family.

_I bet this is all just a sick game concocted by Spencer. That insane, twisted monster._

He knew that Spencer was doing this, viciously taunting him by denying what he needed and making sure he suffered to the very brink of sadistical torture.

He found himself in another hall that his warped mind couldn't seem to recall and his legs soon gave way from brief exhaustion. He took deep wheezing breaths and crawled along the ground for a few metres, before he lay down on the carpet to gain some rest. He knew that he needed to find food and water soon, before he became too weak to stand up again. But he soon noticed a small object in front of him and his eyes widened in shock.

_That shoe. It's Jessica's!! He's got them, Spencer's got them!!!_

George reached out and weakly grasped it, tears coming to his eyes. This high-heel shoe did belong to Jessica; it went with one of own design of dresses. He could clearly remember everything about his wife, their wedding, their honeymoon, their college romances, everything involving him and his wife together was firmly etched in his mind, and he always savoured the thought that his wife was safe and happy, looking after their daughter. But the thought of her suffering in intense pain and agony at the hands of a sadistic insane demon for a man was too much for him to bear. Even more so if she was dead.

_No, she isn't dead! Spencer wants you to believe that. You have to find her and Lisa! And if you can't, you have to get the police and come down hard on Spencer's twisted work!_

Yes, that was what he needed to do. They were here somewhere or outside in the world, safe from Spencer. He couldn't give up yet, not now, not when he was so close to beating Spencer's game. He stood up and wiped his eyes clean of the tears before he stumbled down the hall, looking for an escape.

He would escape, God help him, he would. And Spencer may try as much as he liked to stop him, but he would get out. Then Spencer would be the one running, because once the law saw this, he was a dead man...

**Sorry for the late update. I have been very busy writing chapter 17, which is a very detailed chapter on Umbrella's past. I have decided to post these two chapters as a way of saying thank you for your patience and for favouriting me and my story. I really appreciate it.**

**Anyway, I have to get back to writing the other chapters. I may also be bringing in some more well-known and favourite characters in the RE world. Wesker and Birkin are soon going to be making their big arrival in this story soon, and I have to make sure I get their personalities right.**

**Well, thanks for reading the story so far. Stay tuned for future updates!!**


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen

"You have been very vague in your updates about your work, if I could call once a month an update," Spencer said over the phone.

Marcus clenched the phone tighter. He had more important things than to hear Spencer rant on about his 'oh-so-important' corporation that they were to build. His research was entering a critical phase and he had to get back to work.

"Listen Spencer. I have to continue my work. It is entering an important phase and my specimens are showing signs of genetic mutation, something that we may never have seen before My responsibilities are here," he explained, trying his best to keep his irritation out of his voice.

"Your responsibilities also lie with the corporation we are building. Don't you understand? This corporation is to keep us out of the reach of the law and our work safe. YOU are a key member of this corporation as YOU were involved with this project from the beginning and as such, YOU HAVE to help this corporation stand," Spencer emphasized.

"If that is what you want."

"It is, James. We need to make this corporation because it has all the needs and ways of keeping our work safe and progressing further. Just help us make sure it stays in power and that we get all the help we need, as you are the future director of our new training facility," Spencer ordered, trying to sound polite.

And the phone hung up. Marcus slammed his phone down hard on the receiver, seething with anger, his teeth clenched and his face red as fire.

_That greedy power-hungry maggot!! He can't even begin to fathom the superiority of this research with the Progenitor than anything more than making money!!_

Marcus walked over to his desk and began making more notes on the results he gathered from studying the samples under the microscope. His work on the Progenitor was entering new stages and yielding far better results than he anticipated. The Progenitor seemed to be bonding more and more to the specimens' DNA with each passing day. He knew that something would come, something new and greater, greater than himself, greater than anything Spencer could imagine, and he wanted nothing more but to continue working on it.

He heard a slight screeching behind him and looked over his shoulder at the tank behind him. Inside the tank were 4 dozen leeches, sliding across the floor, ceiling and glass walls of the tank leaving behind a small line of slime trailing wherever they went.

Marcus had chosen to use leeches because they were a simple organism to work on as their DNA was able to be used as a base to test the Progenitor. Their genetic structure was like a blank piece of paper, plain and simple, and the Progenitor was the pen that changed the way the paper looked by using its ink. And as more paper is used, the more detail the pen adds with the ink. Basically, his experiment was a continuous story growing more detailed every day.

That was the perfect way to describe his work at the moment. He had wanted to see if the Progenitor would bond better within a host if it was reproduced from another infect host. He had been breeding the leeches ever since he excepted Spencer's deal to become the future training facility director. Now, he was on the fourth generation of leeches and the Progenitor was bonding more and more with the leeches, but it was still quite clear to see in the DNA.

Also, the effects of the Progenitor on the leeches' external properties were much the same with other insects. Increased aggressiveness and larger in size were the only changes he had seen in them. The first was definitely true, as their appetites had been become ravenous that he was constantly ordering new food to be brought to the lab. Sometimes, the leeches ate each other for sustenance, no dispute between the younger and older generations. Their individualistic nature amongst them as a species was evident, even after being infected with the Progenitor.

"Are you hungry again?" he asked, for some reason he couldn't comprehend. The leeches screeched again, as if in response to his question.

Marcus walked over to a pile of cages by the door, half of them empty due to the leeches unquenchable appetite. He opened one of the cages and pulled out a dog, taking it over to the tank. He pushed a button on the side of the tank and a small hatch opened in the side of the tank, where he pushed the dog through. He pushed the button again to close the hatch and hit another button to open the second hatch in front of it.

When the dog set foot into the tank, the leeches swarmed over it, literally devouring it. Marcus began to take notes on a clipboard he picked up from his desk and continued to write until the dog stopped moaning and whining.

When the leeches crawled up the side of the tank again, Marcus saw that there was nothing left of the dog except for a skeleton covered in blood and slime. Every time he fed them, the leeches would swarm over the food like a black wave of shadow, devour the food of anything they could eat and then sit on the sides of the tank for their next meal. When he had first used a bird and again with a bat, that had been difficult for the leeches to eat them, due to their natural ability of flight, but the leeches adapted to the situation and learnt to jump at prey that was higher than them.

That was something Spencer wouldn't be able to understand about his experiment. The Progenitor killed things and brought them back to life, killing off all their life systems, including intelligence. But the leeches, despite their individualistic attitudes and sometimes cannibalistic ways, had learnt to adapt to a difficult situation. And that was something Spencer could never understand, due to him being a petty politician.

_But he is a politician with great power and influence, which are still growing everyday._

That was true. Spencer was a very influential man and had a tremendous amount of power now, and with this corporation soon to be built, he would be even more powerful. And that would cause bad consequences on his research if that were to happen.

Marcus felt fear settle in the back of his mind. If Spencer grew more powerful, he would be demanding more updates, give him research assistants to help him only to impede his work, maybe even steal his research from and take over it himself. And Marcus would lose his work, be left out of the loop and ignored like old toy that a child threw out for something new.

_I will not let that happen!! The research is MINE!!! Spencer can not take it from me, it belongs to me._

But to stop Spencer, he would need some power and influence of his own, meaning he would have to take part in building their company. He needed to cement himself as one of the key founders of the corporation, thus giving some power to grant him his freedom from Spencer for him to do his work. He needed to gain him some defence by gaining the power and influence over their future employees.

It was all like a game of chess. Marcus was a big fan of chess and had played it most of his childhood; but what interested him about it the most was how very similar it was to real-life. It was all about protecting yourself, the king, and the most precious thing in your life, the queen, from your enemies by sacrificing the meaningless people (pawns) and utilising the help of those you trusted (castles, bishops and knights). And in this game, Spencer was the black side, and he was well defended. He had lost three pawns and was attacking Marcus through any exposed accessway with the rest; his knights, bishops, castles protect his queen and king.

Marcus, on the other had, was not faring well. His pawns were scattered over the board, his bishops, knights and castles were taken afar from his king and queen, leaving them unprotected.

_I must bring in my castles, knights and bishops to protect my king and queen. And to do that, I need to help establish myself as a high-power in the corporation, find some trustworthy protégées to work for me and gain some important allies in this._

With his battle plan decided, he went to call Edward Ashford. Ashford was a bishop for both sides, lending aid to whoever needed it. By consulting with him, Marcus would find out how he could establish the corporation and himself as a key power. He smiled a cold, razor-sharp smile; he would ensure that Spencer couldn't harm him and that his research would go on unimpeded from any interference. He just had to play the pieces right to succeed.

_My move, Oswell E. Spencer. Now it's your turn!_

He laughed to himself for a few moments before he shut everything down and sealed the lab, making sure the leeches were still sealed away, and headed to his office. He had made his move. He just hoped he was ready for Spencer's next move...

_Can't keep...up...Must...find...Jessica and...Lisa...Can't es...escape...Need...food...water...Head...hurts._

George didn't know how long he could keep this up. He hadn't eaten in four days and barely scrounged any water from the plumbing in the estate or from snow melting in the courtyard fountains. He still found no sign of his family and no escape had presented itself to him. All the doors leading outside were locked, the windows sealed and he had barely any strength to climb the walls around the courtyard.

He had thought himself lucky to escape his cell and that he hadn't found any guards in the estate to stop him, but Spencer missing was a major shock to him. He had thought that Spencer would be in his office, watching his futile escape with some sadistic form of pleasure but George had checked his office and he wasn't there.

And that monster in the cell was nerve-racking to say the least. He hadn't thought about the monster that much because he had been so filled with hope of escaping the estate and finding his family that that single thought took a back seat in his mind. But now, as his hope was slowly ebbing away, he found himself thinking back to it.

He had seen it through the bars of its cell and he found staring at it for some time, even though it frightened and repulsed him tremendously. It was a small child, strapped to a hospital bed with an IV machine stood next to its bed, a wire connected to its arm. It was covered in cuts and bruises, its dress torn in several places. But the thing that repulsed him the most was its face, or faces. Its entire head and shoulders were covered in faces, which he guessed were real, stuck in expressions of pain and perpetual agony.

And when she looked at him, he backed away from the cell door and ran back to the estate. Its eyes were filled with intense fury and twisted insanity, all of it directed at him in that single, brief moment that their eyes made contact.

_Did Spencer's virus make that?_

Spencer hadn't told him much about the virus on that day he was abducted and what he had said, George couldn't remember thanks to the intense burning fog in his head. But right now, he had to find another way out of the house and fast.

He stumbled through another irrecoverable room and stopped at the other side to catch his breath. Looking up to see it was a dead end, he turned back around-

-and the floor collapsed under him. He felt his foot dislocate itself as he landed and a rib shatter as he hit the floor. He groaned and clutched his right side with his hand, crawling forward along the dark, muddy tunnel to find an exit. He continued to crawl along the ground, his head swimming and his side throbbing in excrutiating pain, until his hand touched something solid; he reached into his pocket and pulled out his last match, lighting it to have a look. It was a gravestone set against a triangular prism atop a flat stone slab and George's eye widened in shock when he read the name inscribed on it.

It was his name 'George Trevor'.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his mind finally realizing why this entire 'escape' had happened.

_Spencer, you sick and maniacal old fucker._

They had let him escape, drugged him, starved him and messed with his memories to see how well protected the mansion was, and he had fell right into it. They had led him around the whole mansion for him to die here, even leaving him a gravestone to send him off.

His mind soon drifted back to his family. He wouldn't see them again, would never be able to see them again. He failed them, failed to find them, to save them from Spencer. He knew that Spencer had them in his captivity and was lying to him to make his death more painful.

As George's vision began to cloud in black and a small light appeared far away in his sight, he knew this was it. His final time on Earth. He reached out with his hand and with his last coherent thought made a final prayer,

_Oh Heavenly Father, watch over my family make sure they are safe, tell them I'm sorry and that I was a fool. Look after them, now that I can't. Amen._

As his lungs breathed out his last breath, his eyes glazed over and his head fell to the side, a single tear fell down his cold, pale cheek...


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen

1968. This was the year, the year of elevation and establishment, marked the coming of a new power and a great evil. Media all over the world spoke of it, rival businesses saw it as a threat and gathered in meetings to discuss the consequences of this new corporation. The American government recognised it as a helpful endeavour towards medical science and made agreements with other governments of the world to make it global in hopes of having it become a key distributor of health and medical products, supplying it with technology and money to assist it.

But this was because of the men in charge. One man showed brilliant scientific genius and a unique understanding of medical science, showing that the corporation had fully-qualified staff to work for it. The other two were very powerful aristocrats with enough power and a good reputation to provide solid proof that this new corporation was truthful to its cause.

But the real reason that it was made global and so well encouraged was that the lords had friends in high places, due to their large sums of money which was eager to be picked up by greedy hands. This also helped to cover their work, their real purpose of its establishment.

It was to create genetic monstrosities and demonic nightmares to fight wars. To create a virus with the ability to wipe out entire nations and decimate powerful military forces. And to gain its leader, Lord Oswell Edmund Spencer, complete and total domination over the entire world.

They were already in motion. Small facilities across the globe were finished, while much larger facilities were under construction. New staff were being recruited and trained from select candidates, picked out from universities and colleges. Mercenaries and former soldiers were brought into the fold to become a fighting force under complete devotion to the corporation they now worked for. And the virus, the Progenitor, was already changing with the times that flowed with it, to become something greater.

This corporation existed on two sides of the world.

It first seemed to help the sick and heal the injured, making new cures and medicine to make people protected against the many diseases that littered the Earth. The motto that followed this line of work was 'Preserving the health of the people'.

But beneath this bright statement lurked its true nature, its true work of death and horror upon all of nature's creatures, morphing them into abominations.

This corporation of madmen and monsters, of deceitful good and unforgivable evil, of scientists and soldiers, was called 'Umbrella'...

Spencer sat in his office at his estate in the Arklay mountains, smiling broadly while nursing a lit cigar in his left hand and a glass full of wine in his right. He found himself feeling incredibly thrilled and raptured with the way his plans had all worked out over the years.

Their cover-identity was established, he himself having just returned from Raccoon City Hall after he and his friends, Ashford and Marcus (though it was quite a surprise that Marcus had come along) made the announcement about their newly-formed company in front of hundreds of reporters broadcasting the same announcement all over the world and answering the tonnes of questions that followed afterwards.

Though, the company had been established only weeks before, reporters and journalists were still eager to learn as much as they could about the corporation and the people who ran it. It had been a tiring day and Spencer was glad to relax in his office with a cigar and a chilled glass of wine to wash away his fatigue.

Their real work was progressing far as well with many new developments that had been made. They had formed their very own Executive Board to help him run things in the company, bringing people that he either trusted or could easily manipulate from every part of the world, including Sergei as a key member. Lisa was still in containment and the doctors were happy with using to test all the new Progenitor-strains that they had developed. Their training facility would soon be completed and the candidates already lined up and picked out were ready to be educated into the ways of their company.

_All in all things are going my way._

Spencer took a sip of his wine and a puff from his cigar, leaning back in his chair as he breathed out the smoke. He originally had some worries about the company and their research, what with Lisa Trevor's escape and Marcus' increasingly reclusive attitude, that maybe it would all collapse before it even started.

But now Lisa was back in captivity down in the labs and Marcus was brought into line, things were looking up, so to speak. His mood and current situation was just like the July summer atmosphere happening just outside his window, shining through with bright cheerfulness and no chance of any dark, troublesome clouds coming in to spoil the mirth.

He continued to relax in his chair and gaze out the window at the scenery, at the leaves on the trees swaying in the slight breeze, at the birds flying around in the clear, blue sky, generally just admiring Mother Nature's splendour when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, turning his chair to face the door. Sergei, McVarian and Laura entered, shutting the door behind them and walking up to his desk, all of them wearing saddened expressions on their faces.

"What's wrong?" he asked, putting the wine glass down on his desk.

Laura stepped forward, rubbing her hands together nervously. "I am sorry Mr Spencer, but we have bad news. We received a call from Madeline Ashford and she has reported a terrible thing," she said.

"Well, what was it?" he pressed.

McVarian then stepped forward, standing at ease, looking straight forward. "Edward Ashford has died, sir," he stated bluntly and quickly.

Spencer's eyes widened in shock and the cigar slipped from frozen hands. Suddenly the sky seemed to have darkened due to a huge black cloud overshadowing the sun.

"Edward's dead? How?" he asked, surprised he could still speak from the shock.

"He was conducting an experiment with the Progenitor and he had a leak," Sergei explained, "The virus caused the Red Queen to seal him inside the lab where occurred to prevent the virus from spreading. And the White Queen activated the sterilisation procedure, removing all the oxygen from the room and choking Lord Ashford to death. The security had to gun him down after the virus re-animated his corpse."

Spencer leaned forward and put his head in his hands, feeling like he had just been shot through the gut. Edward was a good friend, one who he would have gladly trusted to run the company after he died and was proud to share the company with him. They both shared the same views, same ambitions, knew what was to be done to achieve success in business and would take whatever means to achieve it. Now he had died from a leakage of the Progenitor virus and was gunned down by his own security.

He never deserved that, he deserved to live until his body couldn't continue living, to watch the corporation he helped build become the greatest power in the world. But, he had unfortunately passed on and wouldn't be able to see what became of his part in the corporation.

_How could this happen? We had the proper safety procedures, qualified staff and correct equipment to handle this kind of work. How could this have happened?_

"How did it happen?" he asked, keeping his head in his hands.

"They were sending it through a cargo sorter to be stored in the B.O.W. Section of the lab and Lord Ashford was supervising the operation. They were to store a sample in the B.O.W. Section after they had finished one of their experiments on insect life, to determine if mutations were different between different families of insects. Unfortunately, the crate and vial broke open after the machine shut down in the middle of the process and the room sealed Lord Ashford inside with the airborne Progenitor," Laura explained.

Spencer finally looked up, sadness and regret filled up his eyes. "A tragic accident."

"That's not the way the Ashford family are seeing it," McVarian claimed. "As Alexander was also taking part in the experiment, they believe he was responsible for Lord Edward's death."

"Lady Madeline has asked us all to attend his funeral. The Board members have agreed to come and several of the other high-ranking employees are attending also," Sergei informed him.

Spencer nodded and waved his hand to dismiss them from his office. After they left, Spencer grabbed the wine glass and downed it all in one, then took a deep inhale of the cigar and blew out the smoke, trying to come to terms with what he was feeling.

_Strange. Edward was a good friend of mine and a faithful colleague. Yet, I can't help but feel a small sense of gratitude he is dead._

On one side of his emotions, he felt deeply saddened that his friend had died, as they could have done so much together and were the perfect business partners. They knew everything about businesses, politics, economics and black-market dealings that they could use each of them to obtain what they wanted and keep themselves from being discovered for doing anything illegal. All in all, they were excellent when it came done to using their head and twisting words to make conversations or dealings go in their favour.

However, he did feel a slight sense of pleasure that Edward had died. The business part of his mind saw this as a golden opportunity to obtain total control over Umbrella. Although he and Edward were friends and colleagues, they were also rivals in control for Umbrella and had to share the power positions between them. Now that Edward had died, Spencer gained almost total control of Umbrella and had all of Edward's assets under his name. Marcus still had some power and control over Umbrella but was too obsessed with his work on the Progenitor to be much of a threat to his control. So Spencer was now the man who ran all of Umbrella's inner machinations and no one else could oppose him.

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, drifting into a short dreamless sleep. He would attend the funeral to pay his respects to Edward and offer sympathies to his family, then he would focus back to his work. Keeping Umbrella as the greatest power in history with the Progenitor creating their army of super-soldiers...

It was late August, the leaves beginning to lose their chlorophyll and storing whatever food they made from photosynthesis into the trees' bark, losing their healthy green colour to a montage of red, orange, brown and yellow. The Arklay Mountains and Raccoon Forest were no strangers to this process of plant activity during the changing seasons, as they were like large piles of rocks piled over an endless sea of changing colours.

And amongst the mountains and trees stood a large building, looking over the brink of a steep cliff down into the woods below. It looked vaguely like the Spencer Estate, a large mansion with many hallways and bedrooms concealed behind expertly-carved oak doors, except for the large astronomy tower standing next to it, its telescope gazing up at the sky that was also changing colour with the trees as the sun began to set towards the horizon.

The rooms inside were also different as some of them were designed to look like meeting rooms, classrooms and presentation rooms; it was designed more like a private school than a VIP holiday home. And in a single office with a large chessboard, combined with life-size pieces, built into the centre of the room, stood an elderly man watching the scenery out his window.

Marcus stared out the window for some time, going over what he thought of the facility. It was suitable for training the new students, it had all the necessary equipment for their work in the lecture sessions and in their work in the labs underground once they had proven their worth. They had all the latest textbooks and recordings of all the newest scientific endeavours around the world, all stored in the library, containing everything on biology, chemistry and physics.

Plus, they had all the latest advancements in medical and scientific technology down in the labs. They now had so much brand new technology that he couldn't even guess at most of them. He was particularly proud of the fact that he could now have all the technology and privacy he needed to continue his own research on the Progenitor, as he had his own personal laboratory built near the water treatment plant at the other end of the land.

They had to construct the water treatment plant near the lab to dispose of all failed experiments and wasted materials that came from both the training facility and Spencer estate. At least until they could construct another, more adaptable disposal facility to cope with the bodies of failed experiments and waste materials.

But right now they had everything they needed for the moment and they were already planning to open up the facility once Marcus and the other staff members sorted out some irregularities.

_Might as well get this over with._

Marcus sighed and left his office, heading towards the meeting room on the second floor of the main hall. He knew that ever since he had helped establish Umbrella that he would have to keep up with the company's inner politics so he could stay in a position of power and have protection from any of Spencer's new moves against him.

He was only doing this to keep the work safe. That was all that mattered right now, just to continue his work unhindered from any of Spencer's 'assistance' that would disrupt its progress, due to his lack of understanding of the Progenitor's real power.

Marcus felt for sure that, with each passing day, he was getting closer to discovering the Progenitor's real power, thanks to his leeches. He found himself increasingly unwilling to spend time away from them as he was afraid that they might escape or get stolen by any of Spencer's lackeys. He was well aware of that new Executive Board made to run the politics of Umbrella with Spencer at top, and all of them probably possessed the same greedy, self-indulgent view that the Progenitor was nothing than a money-spinning tool.

_Petty politicians and hypocrites, every one of them._

Though he knew that, as much as he despised them, he had to work with them and keep them appeased so that they wouldn't interfere with his work. Which was why he was going to meet with his staff in the facility's Council Room, to lay down the rules and regulations for the facility's new candidates. He would also send a report about this meeting and a vague report on his work on the Progenitor to the Executive Board to show that he was still endeavouring to work with Umbrella and to ensure they wouldn't come near him.

He entered the room and sat himself at the head of the table, the other members of staff falling silent.

"As you know, we need to establish rules and regulations for the trainees to follow once they have entered this facility to be trained as the future leaders of Umbrella," Marcus stated, beginning his speech.

There were mild nods and confirmations of agreement amongst the other members.

"We must give rules to the trainees on how they are to conduct themselves while working in this facility. Firstly," he counted off on his fingers as he listed the rules, "they must be obedient. They must show nothing but loyalty to this company, its employees and the people who control it. They must always submit what they have worked on to benefit the company and not hoard it for personal gain."

There were more nods and agreements amongst the staff.

"Secondly, they must be disciplined. They must be able to handle maintaining their personal and professional lives efficiently. We cannot tolerate any failure in any of our employees work or living style, because it will reflect on the company's reputation itself."

More nods and agreements.

"Thirdly, they must show unity. There must be no prejudice or discrimination amongst our employees over either creed, race, gender or age. We all serve Umbrella and thus we must treat each other as equals, so that the corporation is not torn down due to any rivalries or competitions amongst the employees."

The staff members were becoming more impressed with Marcus' rules. He kept a smile from creeping up on his face, as he knew this would keep him on the good of the Executive Board and satisfy Spencer momentarily.

"Finally, they must keep the corporation in power. We are working to become the most powerful in production of bio-weapons on this planet. That means there will be rivals in the same field of business and our employees must help to keep us ahead of the race. All these rules help sustain one another, for without, the rest can't survive. Which is why our company motto for this field of research will be 'Obedience breeds discipline. Discipline breeds unity. Unity breeds power. Power is life'.

The staff immediately applauded after he had finished, visually showing how impressed they were at Marcus' new rules for the trainees. After they had finished, they all left the room, Marcus heading back to the lab. He knew how ironic this was because he made the rules but didn't follow them himself; he was in this to find the Progenitor's true power, to have something that his life devoted. Spencer would be aware of this as nothing evaded his attention but this would help keep satisfied while Marcus continued.

Marcus stopped as he remembered something important that he had pushed out of his mind ever since hearing, due to his work. Edward Ashford's funeral was coming up and he would have attend. Although he wanted to continue his work on his leeches with the Progenitor, he knew he needed to attend because if he didn't, it would raise suspicion amongst the higher-ups and give Spencer more momentum to move against him.

_Well, if it keeps Spencer away, then I have no choice. He MUST NOT interfere in my research._

Marcus sighed and continued walking towards his lab. He would worry about that later. Right now, he had more important things to do...

**A bit of a late update on my part. I have finished writing chapter 18 and am now writing chapter 19. And Wesker will be making his appearance in all possible certainty.**

**Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and favourited my story (and me as an author. Thanks everyone, that means a lot).**

**Anyway, keep writing your own stories. Please read and review (if you want, I ain't pressuring anyone to review it, it's your choice).**

**And have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!**


	17. Chapter 17

Seventeen

It was mid-November and the dull, bleak weather was a perfect example of the current mood in the time for some people, particularly at the Ashford Estate on Rockfort Island. The funeral of Edward Ashford was a dismal event, all the people attending were filled with deep regret and sadness, most of them had their heads lowered to gaze at their feet, some of them (including Madeline Ashford) were openly weeping. The priest stood at the lectern perched at the foot of Edward's coffin, reciting the usual prayer that was to be said at a funeral.

Spencer kept his head lowered, his hands wrapped tightly around his cane. He had arrived here very early, seated at the front, so he could be first in paying his respects to his departed colleague. He thought that Edward deserved at least some satisfaction in knowing that he had done well in helping to establish Umbrella and that it would stay in power for centuries to come. It was not much but Spencer thought it would suffice.

He looked down his row to see Sergei, McVarian, Laura and the other board members sitting with him. They had agreed to join Spencer in mourning Edward Ashford's death. Spencer had made sure to analyse their current positions in the world and how it would benefit the corporation. So far, all them showed great promise in keeping the work safe and making sure that they had substantial weight in the world's politics. As Umbrella had already started to expand worldwide and establish other headquarters in different countries, he needed the board members to help him run it all, but to remember that he was fully in charge.

The first member of the board was a tall, slender woman with short brown that didn't go farther than down the length of her neck, cold green eyes, white skin that seemed to reflect her cold heart and her mouth formed into a tight small line. She was dressed in a long black dress with matching heels and a large black hat with a veil barely hiding her face. Her name was Christina Henri and she was in charge of running Umbrella Europe from its main HQ in Paris.

She was a highly ranked and very influential member of the French Senate, with considerable connections in the French National Assembly and the French cabinet, giving Umbrella considerable control in France's politics. In addition, she had access to certain pieces of information that would make the French President and Prime Minister look pretty bad in the public eye.

She was a ruthless and fearfully dedicated politician to whoever she saw as the greater power, in this case Umbrella, and would do whatever it took to keep it in its place as the dominant power in bio-weapons research. Spencer had immediately taken her right of the bat because, in a way, she was a lot like him and he found that he could trust her with the work.

The second member of the board was a Chinese man, with narrow hardened eyes, combed-back black hair, stern facial features with a tattoo of a red dragon on his face and, from what Spencer could see, a deep scar on his right hand. He wore a plain black suit with matching loafers and tie, as did the other male members of the board. The Chinese man was Katsukiko Takashi and he was President of the Judicial Yuan (administrative branch), thus one of the five members of the Chinese Cabinet. He ran all the legal systems inside China and had control of over ¾ of the Hong Kong police force, including the Commissioner of Police and his two Deputies.

He was in charge of running the Umbrella facilities in the Middle East, with its HQ in Hong Kong. And, from what Spencer had discovered, he was a master of every form of the Martial Arts and had considerable military training from the People's Liberation Army's Ground Forces (PLAGF). Spencer believed he could be trusted but he was also bent on upholding his family's honour, so he may cause problems if not watched carefully.

The third member was an African woman with tanned skin, a petite physique and short dark hair. She wore a short black dress with matching heels, a pendent engraved with a tribal symbol to what Spencer could guess, topped with a black head-dress and scarf covering her head. She was Abigail Claxton, Minister of Intelligence Services for the Republic of South Africa with control over the complete South African Secret Service and National Intelligence Agency.

She had the position of maintaining Umbrella's power in both North and South Africa. Another person that could be trusted with the work, so long as nobody was bothered by her superstitions. She had a very firm belief in her African Heritage and worshipped the religion fanatically; although she was had an American father, her mother was from South African and Abigail preferred to follow that part of her bloodline.

The fourth member was a huge, muscular man with deep tanned skin like Abigail's, his large frame barely held in his suit. He was Paco da Bienn, Vice President of Brazil and the man responsible for running Umbrella South America, while Spencer controlled all of Umbrella and had complete over Umbrella North America.

Paco was an ambitious and self-serving politician, who wanted but to become Brazil's President and he saw Umbrella's Progenitor Project as a way of achieving his goals. Spencer knew that he would have to be watched carefully, to make sure he knew where he stood and that Spencer held the power to grant him his goals.

The final member of the board was one of his most trusted friends throughout the project, Colonel Sergei Vladimir. He had been control over Umbrella Asia and Eastern Europe, along with being one of Umbrella's Chief Enforcers and leader of the newly-formed U.B.C.S. (Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Services).

The U.B.C.S. had been established as a group to test Umbrella's Bio-Weapons, in case of an outbreak, to obtain combat data on how efficient the experiments were.

Basically, they were a battalion of soldiers meant to be sacrificed as cannon-fodder.

It did seem cruel and unnecessary for such an action with so many lives, but sacrifices were to be made to keep Umbrella in power and Spencer knew which sacrifices had to be made to maintain this objective.

_I think I have made some good decisions in the long-run for this corporation. But we have a long way to go._

That was true. Spencer knew that in order for Umbrella to be one of the greatest powers, it needed an edge over everyone else and the Progenitor was their edge at the moment. But if it could be changed or upgraded, then that would be an extreme benefit for the corporation. But Marcus currently was the only scientist with all the research and knowledge to discover this, and was seemingly unwilling to share it with others.

Spencer glanced behind him at Marcus, sitting a few rows back. He was actually surprised that Marcus had decided to come to the funeral instead of staying at his lab to work on the Progenitor, but Spencer assumed that Marcus was doing this as a way of appeasement towards the board and a way of keeping them at bay momentarily. But the only thing that would appease Spencer was a constant and detailed update of Marcus' work on the Progenitor, though he knew that Marcus wouldn't give him that kind of information.

Spencer clenched his hands tighter on his cane. He was growing increasingly tired with Marcus and wanted nothing more than to have him removed from the project. But he couldn't do that until he found a more suitable and loyal person to continue the research when Marcus was gone. And do that, Marcus needed to remain in his position to run the training facility so any suitable candidate could be found.

_You are lucky that you still have your uses, James. But if anything else occurs that me and the board won't accept, then your time and employment is forfeit._

As the priest finished his sermon, everyone got up from their seats and paid their respects to Edward before heading of to the party, as a celebratory tribute to Edward himself. The party was a much more lively event than the funeral, what with the uplifting music, exquisite food and drink, and the reminiscence of the good times about Edward's life.

Most of the people began to cheer up and enjoy the party, 'busting a groove on the dance floor' to coin the phrase or talking and laughing amongst each other, though there were some people (especially Madeline Ashford) who still felt downhearted at Edward's death. Spencer walked away from the conversation he was having with the other board members and approached Marcus who was standing near the exit.

"How is your experiment progressing?" Spencer asked, keeping his voice level.

Marcus glared at him. "None of your concern."

Spencer stepped closer and returned Marcus' glare. "It is my concern. You are under my employment, thus you work for Umbrella. The Progenitor is not yours to keep and it must be distributed amongst other scientists and facilities to discover its true potential. Your experiment is your own yes, but I have to be kept in constant update on what you're doing. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, his voice entering a dark, low pitch.

Marcus looked visibly shaken but tried to keep his composure intact.

"I will update you on its progress when I see fit," he responded, jabbing his finger into Spencer's chest for emphasis, "The experiment is extremely delicate and I am the only who can handle it. You may take the Progenitor and hand it to those intellectual inferiors, but MY experiment STAYS with ME. And YOU will get an update when I say so."

There was a sudden, sharp thud beside them and they both turned to look to see what it was, Marcus jumping slightly from the noise. Sergei stood beside them, glaring at Marcus, his blade thrust through the wall and his hand clenched on it tightly that blood seeped between his fingers.

"Comrade, don't forget who's in charge," Sergei warned Marcus, removing his blade from the wall. "You can't just do what you feel like."

He cut open the right side of his mouth with his blade, blood trickling down his chin. Marcus was trembling visibly and started to back away, holding out his hands in front of him, as if in defence from Sergei.

A smirk appeared upon Sergei's face. "Maybe you need a little reminder," he stated.

As he stepped closer to the now terrified Marcus, Spencer thrust his cane in front of Sergei, stopping his advance.

Spencer glanced at Sergei. "Enough, Sergei. Stand down," he ordered. He returned his gaze to Marcus, wearing a cold sinister grin. "I think he has learned his lesson. I expect an update as soon as you deem fit. But don't keep me waiting too long."

Marcus nodded quickly, sweat covering his forehead, and walked to the door. He fumbled with the handle until he managed to open it and ran out the door as it closed, his hurried footsteps fading down the corridor. Spencer lowered his cane and went back to take part in the party, Sergei following suit.

_Might as well enjoy this party. It is for Edward._

The party lasted for a couple of hours until the guests had started to file outside and get inside their limousines to be driven home. Spencer stood in a circle with the board members and began to tell them about his newest ideas, as more of the guests left the room.

"Well, I have managed to put Marcus in his place. At least for the time being. So he should send us more updates on his research and share the Progenitor itself amongst our other facilities," he explained.

"We have already constructed several facilities across the world and we have even larger facilities under construction. Our staff and security are fully ready to handle the experiments and are awaiting the samples. We'll begin once they are ready," Takashi informed them.

"But what if we have an outbreak? We have to assume that there will be an outbreak, I mean, this virus is extreme volatile. And what if there will be more scientists like Marcus? What if they won't hand over their research? We all that this is a fact that can't be ignored. Umbrella has to stay in its current position of power and to do that ALL research staff must submit their work to us," Abigail stated.

There were nods amongst that board members to show their agreement on the subject.

Spencer tapped his cane on the floor to return them to silence. "I already have the solution to this problem. What we need is a black-ops unit, a team of specialists in every field, fiercely loyal to Umbrella and well experienced to be sent on the most dangerous of missions. They will be responsible for retrieving important researchers and their work, the elimination of any B.O.Ws that escape from captivity and to ensure that no outbreak spreads away from its epicentre. This unit will be the U.S.F, Umbrella Special Forces," he explained.

"And who will run this unit?" Bienn questioned.

Spencer pointed his cane at McVarian, who immediately stood to attention. "I believe that Ronald McVarian is suitable for the job. He has tremendous experience in combat techniques and special operations, making him very suitable for the job."

The board members all agreed, some more reluctantly than others as they didn't know whether he seemed trustworthy. But that was their opinion and Spencer didn't care about their opinions of McVarian. All that mattered was Spencer trusted him and that would be enough for them, he would see to it.

Spencer glanced at his watch. "Well, I think that should conclude this little discussion. I suggest we better leave it at that ladies and gentlemen. But I shall need to speak with Miss Henri, Sergei and McVarian," he said.

The board members nodded and shook hands to say goodbye before leaving for their vehicles. When all the members had left, Christine turned her cold eyes to Spencer.

"I have a question I have been meaning to ask, Mr Spencer," she said, keeping her voice tone neutral.

"Very well. Speak."

She stepped closer to him, staring him straight in the eyes. "Are you really letting Marcus still keep his research and position in the company? Even after he has blatantly not provided us with updates on his research?" she asked.

Spencer returned her stare fully. "I have given him a fair warning. But if he becomes a threat to this company and makes any wrong moves in the future, I'll have to organise for him a more permanent vacation," he stated, his voice growing cold. He then looked up at Sergei and McVarian. "But this has shown me something important. Our research staff may end up like Marcus, hoarding their work for their own good. We will need our own espionage organisation, people we can place amongst the employees to spy on them for us. We will need them to steal research, clean up evidence and remove troublesome employees," he explained.

Sergei cleared his throat. "I have already begun to form such an organisation, Comrade Spencer. I have several trustworthy agents placed throughout the command structure, research and security staff already. I will have to put some in the U.B.C.S to keep an eye on them and more agents will be needed elsewhere, but otherwise the 'Monitor' unit is fully operational," Sergei claimed.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at the irony of that name. An organisation of spies and assassins to watch over the employees for any sign of treachery was named after the very function it was made to do. It seemed to him that there was a deep set of irony welded into Umbrella's structure, but right now that was unimportant as they were now fully prepared for any circumstances that could occur.

After a few more brief discussions on anything that needed mentioning about Umbrella's integrity, they left for their vehicles to head off for the airport and their respective HQ where they were in command. But before Spencer left, he turned and glanced at the Ashford Estate, drowning out the sounds of the planes and helicopters flying away.

He thought over everything he had done with Edward and what they would have done if he had not died so soon. But he knew there was no point in trying to focus what could have been yet he had really wished that things had turned out differently, that Edward was still alive and that the two of them could have worked to keep Umbrella in power.

_Goodbye, old friend._

It wasn't much of a prayer but it would have to do. He entered his limousine and was silent all the way to the airfield, his mind not being able to think about anything else except his dearly departed old friend...

1969, February. What difference did it make? What good would the passing of the new year had done? Would it have helped? Would it have done anything? It certainly did nothing for Alexander Ashford. He sat on the foot of his bed, feeling incredibly ashamed and downhearted. He had remained sealed away in his mansion for days, rarely eating and drinking, not getting any sleep.

He was too wrapped with guilt and shame over his father's death, over having done nothing to save him. It was eating away at his heart like worms chewing through an apple, eating away all the ripe goodness of the fruit itself, leaving nothing but an empty shell.

_What could I have done? I didn't know what to do. I wasn't with him at the time._

That did very little to ease his shame. Although he had been in another area of the lab, helping to sort out the equipment that was to be stored away for the experiment when the incident occurred and he just couldn't find anything to do, anything to do to save his father.

And so he watched his father die, watched him choke to death and come back from the dead, making the security gun him down in a hail of gunfire. They had never figured out the actual time line that the Progenitor killed its victims, some dying in five minutes of infection while others died in two days. But his father had been one of the former and so was gunned down like a rabid animal, which the Progenitor had turned him into.

After that day and the funeral, Alexander Ashford, now head of the Ashford family, now was forced to bear the curse and indignity of having failed the honour of Veronica Ashford's great legacy.

His family were a constant reminder of that fact. They were continually scolding him, loathing him, despising him, for letting his father die and ruining the Ashford legacy. He had become the mud stain on the Ashford family's clean slate, the rotten apple in the barrel, and his family constantly made him remember that fact.

The reason he had failed the Ashford legacy was because, now that his father had died, the Ashfords had lost the monument that was a true representative of their honour and finesse; they had lost their control over Umbrella itself.

With Edward dead and Marcus constantly secluding himself, Spencer was now the man holding all the trump cards. All of the employees were loyal to him, he had a board of distinguished politicians backing him up, he now had a private army and a soon-to-be formed special forces. Basically, Spencer ruled Umbrella.

Alexander clenched his fists, feeling rage and anger rise in him.

_Umbrella is not his alone. It belongs to the Ashford family. My father helped make Umbrella what it is, helped Spencer gain his power in Umbrella and now we are cast out into the world to be ignored our right? HE WILL NEVER HAVE COMPLETE CONTROL OF UMBRELLA!!!_

Alexander knew that the only way to redeem himself and rebuild the Ashford legacy was to regain their position of power in Umbrella. And do that, he would need to gain an advantage in the competition that all the higher-ups were having over the Progenitor, thus he would need to revive his great ancestor, Veronica herself, in a new body and youth. Veronica was the great woman who started the legacy of the Ashford family, and would rebuild it again.

But first, he needed to build a facility that would hide his work from Spencer. Now that Spencer was gaining more power and soldiers, he would also be hiring spies to monitor his employees and fellow board members. Alexander had kept up his façade of working for Spencer by allowing him to train his special forces in the Rockfort military compund. He had to head down there frequently to question the newly appointed General McVarian about the training progress and relay it to Spencer, to show that he was still working for Umbrella.

But now Alexander needed to find an isolated facility where he could start his work away from Spencer's prying eyes and to keep his façade of working for him. He needed to construct a facility that would serve both their needs with the Progenitor, so Spencer would be satisfied enough that he wouldn't inquire about his work.

_But where? Where can I begin this work without Spencer knowing about it? It will have to be secluded. In a place that barely anyone ventures to. And it has to be under our family properties._

Then it occurred to him. He didn't need to construct a facility for both him AND Spencer, he could make one for himself and give another to Spencer.

"Scott!!" he called. He had to wait for a few seconds before there was a knock at the door and Scott Harman, his butler, stepped in.

"Yes sir," he asked, in the regal voice that all butler's seem to have.

"I need you to do me three things. One, I need you to contact the cemetery that Veronica Ashford is buried at, have her body exhumed and brought here. Two, get some construction workers and tell them I need them to build something for me in the Antarctica. And three, arrange a meeting for me with the Executive Board," he ordered, counting off on his fingers as he spoke. Scott nodded and left.

Alexander smiled as he lay down on his bed to sleep. He had decided to give Spencer full control over the Rockfort lab facilities for him to do his work as an act of showing his loyalty to him. In the meantime, he would ask for the board's permission to build his laboratory facility under the transport terminal the Ashford family owned in the Antarctica.

The transport terminal had originally been constructed as a shipping hub for all their cargo to be delivered around the world to other lands and properties that they owned. It was the perfect place to build the facility as it was secluded from all forms of civilisation, had enough space to build the facility' features, such as the huge mansion home he'd need to construct and it would appease to the board because if there was a leak (which he would make sure wouldn't happen), they would know that there was nowhere for it to spread.

As Alexander drifted to sleep, he decided something about the mansion that he really wanted to include, something that had always been something he had adored as a child which he really wanted to see built in his own mansion for his vanity and a tribute to the late George Trevor. He would copy the design of the Spencer Estate itself, especially the main hall. That was the one part of the mansion that he enjoyed the most. It would suit his new facility well.

_I will redeem myself in the eyes of the Ashford legacy. Don't worry father. Spencer will not have complete control over Umbrella._

With all his plans settled and his ideals ready to proceed, he finally drifted into a peaceful sleep knowing that he would make his father proud and show Veronica herself that he was worthy to bear the blood of the Ashford family tree...

**Hope all of you have had a very Merry Christmas!**

**I am back to writing this story again after taking a break over Christmas Day and I hope all of you will have a happy New Year.**

**I have to apologise if this has made any racial offences with any site visitors/users nationality. I am not very good at writing racial characterstics and I hope I haven't offended anyone on this site. I only brought these characters in from different countries, to show how far spread Umbrella's power influence over the world was.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope you have enjoyed your christmas and have a happy New Year!!**


	18. Chapter 18

Eighteen

Spencer stepped off the helicopter and walked to the elevator at the edge of the heliport on his estate's grounds. He had another busy day with the board, concerning the formation of the Umbrella Secret Forces. Most of them were quite worried about the soldiers in the unit as, like in the U.B.C.S, most of them were convicted war criminals or former soldiers. But Spencer assured them that the recruits could be brought in to be trained up to become fiercely loyal to Umbrella. So far the board were seemingly content with the way the USF was ran by McVarian, but they were certainly prepared to disband or eliminate the unit should any sign of treachery occur.

_Hopefully, I can keep them convinced that McVarian shall maintain order in the unit._

Spencer knew beyond any doubt that McVarian could keep the soldiers in line and train them up to the best of their abilities. It had been near enough two years since the unit and now, the unit had approximately been formed into four squads with six men in each team. More candidates were being picked out and trained to replace any men who fell in the line of duty, and even would soon be arriving.

Sergei was making good progress as well with the Monitor organisation. So far, they had over fifty members, all of them now integrated amongst the employees in all of Umbrella's facilities around the globe. All the members either answered to himself, Director Henri, Sergei or McVarian about any new developments; Spencer had assigned some of the agents to keep their eyes on Marcus, to make sure that he didn't lose sight of who he worked for and what he was to do for Umbrella. So far, Spencer's little talk with Marcus had made its proper effect as he was sending updates a little more frequently and with a little more detail.

_Maybe Marcus will be in line a little more, but he shall still have to be watched. He is becoming overly obsessed with his work and may start ignoring us again._

But either way things were running smoothly and staying on track. The corporation was getting more and more popular amongst the world's public, they had already began integrating themselves in the local towns, particularly in Raccoon City where they were donating funds to commit to further building developments, such as expanding the Kite Brothers' railway line.

But even Spencer knew that with every action, there is a reaction that can take down the first. And with the Progenitor being the reaction, it is quite a nasty reaction.

It was March 13th, 1970. He had been working down in the labs, watching the scientists work on their experiments with the Progenitor being admitted to live insects. Other facilities were performing similar experiments as the Arklay laboratory, and all the facilities were exchanging specimens and research data to maximise efficiency. He was watching Sarton and Crackhorn supervise the experiment using a scorpion that the African labs had sent to them and a common household spider that they had found loitering in the estate. They didn't really have to leave the estate to get most of their specimens, they found them most commonly around the estate.

Soon, Laura stepped inside the room and approached Spencer from behind.

"Sir," she started and took a deep breath, "there's been an incident."

Spencer whirled around and stared at her. "How bad?"

Laura opened up the file in her hands and traced her finger down the paper. "Apparently, a facility in Mozambique has had a leakage and the White Queen has sealed the facility. All the staff have been infected and the experiments are loose," she informed him, reading out the file.

Spencer pulled out a cigar from his case and lit it. "Has it spread to the surrounding area?"

Laura closed the file and held it between her hands. "Only to the village above. It is a small village, far from any of the main cities. Currently populated by 50-60 people, all farming villagers," she explained.

Spencer inhaled on the cigar then blew out the smoke. "Any authorities been alerted?"

Laura shook her head. Spencer considered the facts for a moment and decided on the only option he could think of. 'Kill two birds with one stone' to coin the phrase, because they needed the leak covered up and they needed to test the USF out in real-life combat situations.

_It's time to put McVarian's training to the real test. Let's pray the soldiers are up to it._

He inhaled on the cigar again and blew out the smoke. "Send in the USF," he commanded.

Laura nodded and left to make the call. When the door shut behind her, Spencer turned back to the window and continued to watch the experiment, inhaling on the cigar and exhaling the smoke. He knew that this would be settled in a matter of hours...

March 13th, 01:18 p.m. Over the Funhalouro district, in the province of Inhambane.

A Mil Mi-8 transport helicopter flew through the sky, its pilots keeping the aircraft on its course as the engineer watched over the vital components of the craft and the four squads of troops in the back sat or stood in their respective groups. Each of them were silent, no joking or talking, saying nothing whatsoever, keeping their minds on the mission at hand. The helicopter continued its course until one of the pilot's spoke to them through their headsets.

"Target area spotted. No sign of enemies. Prepare for drop-off."

The engineer tapped a few buttons on a computer console and a large screen came down from the helicopter's roof, turning on to reveal the face of General McVarian. His face showed signs of ageing, wrinkles appearing under his eyes and his hair starting to grey.

"Okay squads. Here is your mission. A few hours ago, the Progenitor leaked in this facility and killed every last person inside the lab and on the surface. The experiments have also gotten lose so expect heavy trouble. We can't have the research being known by the general public, thus the evidence has to be wiped away," he explained.

The screen changed to a schematic of an underground facility. "This is the facility's schematic. It is approximately 3500 feet underground, housing dormitories, laboratories, specimen cages, its own power supply, cafeteria and underground heliport. The entire complex has twelve levels in all, the main labs and power generator being on the lower levels, dormitories and cafeteria on the first level, with smaller labs and specimen cages scattered on the other floors," McVarian explained, a pointer highlighting all the said areas.

The soldiers remained silent, making no noise to say they were paying attention, all of them just listening intently and fixed on the screen.

"Your objective is in this room," the pointer highlighted and magnified the image of a small square room, with a computer console and a large metal pillar, integrated with power motors and modules, inside the centre, "the self-destruct system. Once activated, the self-destruct will increase the generator's power until it overloads. When the power overloads, it will activate a highly-powerful explosive in the core module. This will cause a chain reaction in which all the secondary explosive charges, that are placed in key points throughout the facility's structure, will be set off as well. This will bring the whole facility crashing down."

"What are our objectives?" Alpha-1, the leader of Alpha Squad, questioned.

The screen changed back to the image of McVarian. "Your primary objective is to set off the self-destruct system and destroy all the evidence, then report to the evac-point one click north of the village for extraction. Your secondary objectives are to send all research data to the Red Queen's Data Storage and rescue any surviving personnel on site. Just remember, you have two hours before the evac choppers arrive and another two hours to get them. After that time limit, several Hind-D attack helicopters will bomb the facility, with every last creature still in it. Understood?"

The soldiers all nodded.

"Good. Prepare for landing." With that the image faded.

"We are over the drop zone now. This is your stop. Stay safe," the pilot advised.

The engineer opened the doors on each side of the chopper, attaching three ropes to hooks on the roof securely, then threw them out the hatch so that they hung from the helicopter all the way to the floor. In threes, the soldiers rappelled down the ropes to the floor, hitting the ground and went into a defensive formation, weapons raised and ready to fire.

Alpha squad were crouched in a farming field not too far from the village, Beta squad in the field on their right with Charlie squad further down and Delta squad behind them. The leader stood up after the area was deemed clear and turned to his men.

"Alright, we have to find the lab entrance in the village. Umbrella Africa weren't very helpful in providing us with info on the entrance, but they said it was somewhere near the outskirts of the village. But first, we'll find any safe routes through the village that we can take. Charlie squad will stay here and secure the fields. Beta squad will take up positions in one of the houses and be on the look-out for mutants. Delta will hold the main street into the square while we head into the square itself. Alpha-4, you're on point," he ordered.

Alpha-4, the youngest of the group, stepped to the front, holding his CAR-15 machine gun at the ready, three extra clips strapped on his chest, a Mossberg 500 shotgun strapped on his back, extra shells put in his trouser pockets and a SIG P220 handgun in a holster strapped on his right thigh, two extra clips hooked on his belt along with two grenades. He was ready for anything and he hoped the rest of his squad were too; this was their first mission on their job.

He preferred to do this quickly in and out in under an hour, but his comrades, especially their squad leader, would be worried about keeping each other alive. He didn't worry about his comrades' lives, they would live or die due to their skills and the choices they made.

He didn't like the idea of his comrades being killed and really hoped that some of them made it out alive, but he was focused on just one thing, the mission itself. That was all that was important, even over his comrades, the mission had to be completed without mistakes and then he could worry about getting his comrades to safety.

The mission had always been Alpha-4's main focus in his life, whatever he did, he classified it as a mission and that it had to be completed at whatever cost. Comradeship was good and all, but mission success was what Umbrella wanted more out of the situation.

He was actually glad that he had been recruited by the USF. That had been two years ago, when the unit was first formed and he had been taken from the streets of New York. He had been part of a local street gang, stealing money, drugs (not being one to use them himself, he despised people who used drugs as an excuse to help them live their lives) and guns.

He had first been trained to use a gun when he was 10, when one of the gang leaders saw him doing well that he was soon using a handgun and being one of their strong-arms. He continued to show loyalty to however he worked for and did anything they ordered him to, but he never said he enjoyed it; it was a mission and missions had to be completed if he wanted to live the next day.

He had that principle ever since being with that gang, always helping or abandoning his comrades when the situation called it as a threat to mission success. He had always stuck with that principle and that was why he still lived, or wasn't in jail for the rest of his life. He learned martial arts, boxing and self-defence all from that one gang, but the USF taught him how to be a real soldier, which was something he had always wanted to be his whole life. The gang had helped pave his way to that path so he was grateful to them for it, but he was eternally grateful to the USF and signed his loyalty over to them for as long as he lived.

They first caught him after a recent escape from the police. He had escaped from the city docks after a drug trade went bad, leaving most of his comrades to fend for themselves, and ran into a local café to catch his breath. Then a couple of suits wearing the Umbrella logo approached him and asked for his employment, but he had denied his request by beating the shit out of them. He soon ended up scaling the fire-escape and making a getaway across the rooftops with more of the suits behind him. He made his way down to street level after running through an apartment complex, but the suits had him surrounded after he made one step out the front door.

After that, he had been taken to Rockfort Island and was trained to be a soldier by General McVarian. He had been 14 when he had started training and now, at the age of 16, was finally the member of an elite squad of soldiers, trained for the deadliest of missions. And he would fulfil this mission to the end, he wouldn't let the unit and the corporation down.

He led the squad down a small street between small houses made of straw walls and wooden roofs, keeping their eyes peeled for anything that might jump out at them. He raised his hand in a clenched fist to halt the squad as a noise came from around a corner in the street, behind one of the houses. A barrel soon came rolling around the corner, spilling its contents all over the dirt as it continued rolling. Alpha-4 pointed his hand forward, fingers extended and the squad continued to advance.

"I don't like this, man. It's too quiet," Alpha-5, a male soldier, complained.

"You are just a pussy, you know that right?" Alpha-2, their female soldier, taunted.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Alpha-5 snapped back.

"No you shut up you worthless sack of bullshit!"

Alpha-4 whirled around to face them, "Both of you shut up. You're giving away our position. So zip it!! Before I shoot you myself." He turned to Alpha-1. "Orders sir?"

"Continue to the square," he ordered, passing a brief glare towards Alphas 2 and 5.

The team set out again, keeping in their formation and weapons raised. They soon came to a large open area with a well sitting in the centre and several small, straw houses circling the perimeter. Alpha-1 pointed one finger in the air and made a circle, which the team responded by forming a circle around the well. Alpha-4 watched the area and couldn't help himself but to grip his weapon tighter; there were no sounds whatsoever, except the slight breeze blowing through the village, causing the straw houses to sway a little, and his own deep breathing.

There were no signs of any people or wildlife in the area and it seemed to be more like an ambush, standing in the open area of the square, surrounded by several houses. It seemed perfect for a sniper attack, but he knew that they weren't dealing with human soldiers, they were dealing with infected mutants. He knew what he would be attacked by, had already studied up on what kind of experiments the labs were doing, as had the rest of the unit, and the feeling of dread and slight sense of fear were slightly comforting to know that his intuition hadn't failed him.

"This ain't right, man," Alpha-5 whined, backing slightly towards the well.

Whatever anyone had to respond to his whining was cut off by the radio crackling to life. Alpha-1 held his hand to his head-set to answer the message while everyone else listened quietly.

"This is Beta squad," the radio sputtered. "We are under attack near what looks like the local church. Unknown number of targets."

"This is Alpha. Specify your enemies. Over," Alpha-1 replied.

"Infected villagers. The Progenitor has revived their bodies and made them impervious to gunfire. They are completely dead, yet they are attacking us, like the files said." There was a brief sound of machine gun fire. "The only way to down them is to take out the brain. That's the only thing that will-...Shit!!!"

Not even Alpha-4 could stop himself from cringing as someone began screaming over the radio, followed by the sounds of flesh being torn.

"We lost Beta-6!! I repeat, we lost Beta-6!! We need backup ASAP!!" Beta-1 yelled through the radio.

Alpha-1 disconnected the radio and turned to his squad. "We need to get to the church! Beta needs help!! Let's-"

"SIR!!" Alpha-2 interrupted. "Look!!" She pointed across the square in the direction that they had come from.

Several villagers were marching towards them in a stumbling and staggering walk, filing out from the buildings onto the streets. They marched at the squad, paying no attention to the weapons pointed at them. Alpha squad started to back away slowly towards the well, almost becoming a tight circle. As the villagers came closer, Alpha-4 noticed that their skin was slightly pale and their eyes were completely milky-white, the pupils merging into the white of the irises.

_These people have certainly entered the revival stage of infection._

He raised his rifle and aimed at the closest zombie. He knew that zombies were supposed to be make-believe, science-fiction monsters, but there was no other name to call them by. After all, the Progenitor killed them and brought them back to life, making them into undead, flesh-eating people; 'zombies' was the only name that fitted the description. He switched the rifle's fire mode to single-shot and pulled the trigger, taking out the zombie's brain. He soon switched targets and fired again, the squad joining in seconds later.

Alpha squad stayed in their formation for about several minutes before they suffered from casualties. Alpha-6 had gone first when one of the infected bit into his neck and tore out his throat, blood running down his desert-camouflage uniform. He went into severe spasms as the infected closed in on him and ate his still-twitching body. The sounds of tendons and ligaments torn apart could be heard over the chorus of moans from the villagers, along with the horrid sight of dead-white faces splattered in blood and cramming blood-drenched skin into their mouths.

Alpha-3 lost his nerve and ran, heading for one of the buildings to barricade himself inside, although the houses were straw and wouldn't do much good for him. He had even dunked his weapon and used his grenades to keep the infected away while he ran for the house. How he would protect himself in there was beyond anyone's guess.

The rest of the squad continued to defend their position, firing at the infected as they closed in on them. Soon, the squad found themselves surrounded on all sides by the infected. Alpha-4 looked around for an escape route and spotted one; there was a large gap in the crowd of infected, large enough for him to get past, which led to a pile of barrels stacked neatly on top of each other, reaching to the roof of one of the houses.

He looked between the exit and his comrades, thinking what he should do. Should he abandon his comrades to their deaths to complete the mission? Or should he forsake the mission and help his comrades survive? One or the other. He didn't dwell so long on the thought because he knew what he had to do, which factor was most important.

_The mission takes priority over everything else. Survival is their responsibility, not mine._

He had lived with this train of thought for all his life and it neither failed nor ignored him, helping him to survive through another day. He saw no point in failing and ignoring that statement after it had saved his life countless times, after it had helped him get where he was today and would continue to help him in the near future. The mission came first. Umbrella saw it that way and so did he.

He ran for the gap, quickly shooting any infected in his way, and reached the barrels before any of them could get him, leaping nimbly up the pile until he grabbed the roof, hoisting himself up. The villagers had been smart in making the houses for the weather in their country, the roofs held firmly in place on the brittle straw walls via a strong sturdy frame across the house's structure, so he had no worry about it collapsing under his weight.

"Hey, look! Alpha-4's found a way out!! Hurry!!!" Alpha-2 practically shrieked through the radio.

He looked back into the square to see Alpha-5 and Alpha-2 running towards him, narrowly avoiding the attacks of the infected. He crouched by the edge of the roof and held out his hand for them to catch on. He didn't want to see his comrades die, as much as the mission was important to complete, he had to at least help them survive, even for a few minutes. But he couldn't loose sight of what really mattered. The mission must be completed.

Alpha-5 reached the barrels first and was hoisted up by Alpha-4. Alpha-2 reached the barrels as the infected closed in and was lifted to safety by her two squad mates. Alpha-1 wasn't so lucky. The infected closed in him like ravenous animals and tore him to pieces. They lost sight of him as he was dragged, screaming, beneath the crowd of infected huddled around him and his screams soon came to a gurgling stop.

Alpha-2 took in rapid, shuddering breaths and looked up at them. "We need to get out of here!!! We need to get out of here!!! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!! WE-"

Her continuous, terrified screams were cut off from a sharp slap across her face by Alpha-5.

"Now who's the pussy?" he taunted, wearing a stupid grin on his face.

Alpha-2 just glared at him, gaining her composure back, as he began to laugh-

-when a huge animal leapt onto the roof and pounced on him, taking him off the roof onto the streets below. Alpha-2 began screaming again as Alpha-4 rushed to the roof edge to see what had taken down Alpha-5. His eyes widened in shock when he recognised the creature, having never thought that something like this was here.

_Not good._

It was a huge male lion, obviously infected, due to the fact that it had several bullet-holes in its hide and wasn't dead. It chomped down on Alpha-5's stomach, tearing it open and eating the organs inside, ripping out and chewing on the stringy intestines in its huge jaws. Alpha-5 screamed at the top of his lungs, while they remained in his chest, his blood splashed over the lion's face, the ground and his body, his eyes staring in unparalleled horror at the Progenitor-infected lion eviscerating him. Some of the infected villagers arrived to join the feast and started chewing on his struggling arms and legs, tearing them off their tendons, and splattering blood all over the ground and their faces as they tore away flesh to eat.

Alpha-4 raised his rifle and shot Alpha-5 through his forehead, putting him out of his misery and torment. No-one deserved such a death. He left Alpha-2 to her screaming and leapt from the opposite edge to the street below, taking off at a sprint away from the square. She was losing her nerve and might suffer a breakdown soon, best to leave her there. He had to find the lab and fast, before the infection spread further.

His radio suddenly came to life with a wave of static before a voice came through. "Jesus Christ on his cross!!! We're fucked!!! They're everywhere, goddammit, we need help!!"

He ignored the radio and focused on what he needed to do. He needed to find the lab entrance first, somewhere that had enough space to hide an elevator or a secret staircase, without drawing suspicion from the locals. He continued to run through the streets as his mind tried to figure out where the laboratory would be, coming up to a fork in the street and rounding the corner on the left-

-when he skidded to a stop. At least ten infected were chowing down on three corpses of USF soldiers, ripping away body parts and tearing out organs to stuff in their mouths. They all looked up at him and moaned, blood oozing out their mouths and seeping from between their teeth. He spun around to head down the other street-

-only to see more infected coming towards him and the lion coming towards him from having finished devouring what was left of Alpha-5.

_Damn! Think fast! And move faster!!_

He dove through the wall of the house next to him, bursting through the hay and landing on the carpet laid on the ground inside. He got to his feet and hurried out the door.

"Any surviving USF members. This is Charlie-2. My team is gone, they're all dead. I am heading for the evac-point. Meet me there. Out," his radio stated before going silent again.

He didn't have time to answer any radio messages. He needed to reach the labs and fast. He ran down the street he came out onto and turned a corner in the street, jumping onto a cart and then on a nearby rooftop, avoiding the infected that continued to sprawl out onto the streets.

He sat down and reloaded his CAR-15, throwing away the empty clip, slinging the machine gun over his shoulder and taking out the shotgun, making sure it was fully-loaded. After that, he counted up the amount of ammunition he had left to spare. He had three clips for the CAR-15, one loaded in the rifle and two to use, making 90 rounds in all. He had the Mossberg fully loaded, that was eight shells, plus the two loads in his pockets, making a total of 24 shells. And finally, he had the SIG P220 loaded with two extra clips, thus making forty-five rounds. Along with the two grenades he had, he should have another ammo to get into the labs and out, so long as he was careful.

"This is Delta-1. Deltas 4, 2 and 5 are down. We lost them near Alpha's last position. All of them are KIA. To any survivors, we have found the lab entrance. I repeat, we found the lab entrance," his radio announced, catching his attention.

He held his hand on his head-set. "This is Alpha-4. I am the last survivor of Alpha squad. I am currently a couple of streets away from the square. What is your location?" he responded. He needed to get there as soon as possible and help them as best as he could. They all were here to complete the mission and whether they worked alone or together, they had to complete the mission.

"Alpha-4!?! Thank god, you're alive! We are at a large weather research station, the cover for the facility, about a few kilometres north of your position. We are standing guard over the elevator that heads inside. Rendezvous with us immediately. See you soon Alpha-4. Out."

Alpha-4 disconnected the radio and readied the shotgun. He checked his watch and saw the time was 1:47 p.m., just over 3 and a ½ hours to complete the mission. Once he reached Delta squad's position, he could get the mission done quicker. He looked to the north and could barely catch a glimpse of a large structure not so far away. It was a large tower complex covered with antennae and radar dishes on the roof, surrounded by small warehouses and a large iron fence.

_The weather station. Well, I guess it's time to move out._

Before he could move from the roof, the sound of paws landing on a wooden surface came from behind him, followed by the low, angered growl of a large animal. He turned around and saw the lion crouched into an attack position, arching its back and lowering its head to show it was going to pounce. Blood was stained all over its teeth, mouth and nose, its milky-white eyes fixed on him with intense anger and ravenous hunger.

"So, back for seconds?" he quipped, raising his shotgun. "Well, I never had experience in lion-taming, but there's a first time for everything."

The lion pounced, front-paws outstretched, mouth open wide to show its bloody fangs and roared as it flew through the air at Alpha-4. He hurriedly held the shotgun sideways and was pinned down as the lion landed on top of him, its huge body hovering over his, paws all spread out and strongly holding it in place. Alpha-4 wedged the shotgun between the jaws and was using all his strength to keep its head from reaching his throat. He strained against the lion as it lowered its head slowly towards his neck, its hot breath flooding his nostrils with the scent of blood.

_Move soldier! There's no time for this!!_

As the lion drew closer to his neck, he head-butted it directly in its forehead, momentarily stunning it so he could push it off him, ignoring the sharp pain resonating in his head. He got to his feet and raised the shotgun, firing at the lion and hitting it in its chest, knocking it back. He racked in another shell as the lion shook itself off to get rid of the effects of the shot, despite the fact its chest was torn open to reveal its rib-cage. It pounced at him again and he dove to the side, rolling over back onto his feet, spun and quick-fired his shotgun, the blast getting it in the side of its head. He pumped in another shell and fired again. Pumped and fired again. Pumped again. Then fired again.

He pumped in another shell and saw that the lion's head was completely gone. Most of it having been blown into a large stain on the wall of another house or pooling around the stump of its neck. He leapt down from the roof and ran through the street that headed to the station, shoving infected out of his way. He soon came to the base of the hill where the station was perched and started his climb, grabbing onto rocks for support in case he slipped. Sand wasn't exactly a stable surface to walk on, especially when hiking up hills.

"Alpha-4, this is Delta-1. Respond. Over," his radio ordered.

He placed his hand on his head-set. "Alpha-4 here. What's wrong? Over."

"Beta squad have arrived here. We so far haven't heard a word from Charlie and Beta-4 is dead. We put him down when he had been bitten."

"Any sign of escaped experiments?" he asked.

"No sign. This area is secure. We-" Suddenly, he heard what could have been feral animals screeching. "H-Holy shit!" Gunfire sounded off. "Fire, fire, fire!!"

Alpha-4 hurried up the hill as quickly as he could. He needed to get up there fast. It wasn't just his comrades that were in danger, but if they were under attacked by escaped experiments, that meant the lab wasn't secure and there was a chance the infection could spread. And Umbrella would soon be waist-deep in shit if that happened.

"Oh no!! Help me!! God!! NO!! HELP ME!!" someone screamed over the radio followed by sounds of flesh being torn.

"We losing men like flies!! Kill these freaks!!"

"Sir, we lost over half the men!! We need to retreat!!"

"We have a mission, son!! We aren't going anywhere!!"

"But sir, we- LOOK OUT!!"

The radio soon sputtered nothing but incoherent shouting, painful screams and fading gunfire, until all that could be heard was the sounds of something feasting.

"Fuck," he cursed, disconnecting the radio. This mission was getting worse by the second. Now he was the last person left alive on the mission, except for maybe Alphas 3 and 2, and probably Charlie-2, but those were slim guesses. Alphas 2 and 3 had both lost their nerves and were most likely still where he had left them, somewhere in the town square. Charlie-2 had the most chances of still being alive, having left the village to head for the evac-point, but that would be if he had made it out of the village.

Alpha-4 quickly dismissed the train of thought on his comrades and headed to the lab entrance. He had a mission to complete and needed to finish it quickly if he wanted to get home.

_Well, time to head underground._

He soon reached the top of the hill and immediately raised his weapon, his senses on high-alert when he saw the corpses strewn outside and heard the sound of an animal feasting. He approached the entrance of the station building cautiously, keeping his footsteps silent and slow, being wary of stepping on the small patches of grass in the dirt or knocking over a rock. The eating sounds became louder and he slowly pushed open the double metal doors, keeping his finger on the trigger as he stepped inside

He came into what was the main lobby of the station, a reception booth directly in front of him, a small waiting area with cushioned seats and a coffee table on his left, and a pool table to his right. There were four ways out of the room, two doors on the right wall, a glass door on the left which led into what looked like a conservatory and a large staircase going upwards.

He approached the reception desk and saw that it had a computer console on top, a coffee machine behind it against the booth wall, along with a filing cabinet and a bulletin board with several notes pinned up on it. He walked around the desk and tapped on the screen, causing the screen-saver to disappear and the White Queen access screen to appear.

"Please insert your username and password," the White Queen requested.

He typed in his username 'Alpha4' and his password 'Death'. He had always been afraid of death, ever since he was a child, the thought of being killed and having the cold spirit of death drag to him to the abyss terrified him tremendously. He had actually came up with his 'mission first' policy to help him cope with his fear because the faster he completed a mission, the more chance he had of surviving than if he had helped his comrades. So having 'Death' as his password sort of came as a reminder of why he stuck to his policy.

"Greetings. You have level 5 security clearance. Please give command."

He typed in, "Open lab entrance."

"Access granted. Conservatory elevator coming online. Arriving to ground floor."

He looked up at the conservatory door and heard the distant hum of the elevator coming close until the hum stopped, followed by a faint ping.

Suddenly, a screech sounded behind him and a stout creature landed in front of him, knocking off the computer. He stepped back and raised his shotgun at the creature. In the split second between raising his weapon and shooting it point-blank in the face, he took in the creature's appearance fully. It was a large monkey or baboon, with muscular arms and legs, sharpened claws on its hands, huge yellow fangs stained with blood and milky-white, rage-filled eyes. The shotgun blast blew its face clean off, splattering blood all over the floor and ceiling as it flew backwards to land on the floor in a crumpled heap. He had little time to feel relief when two more jumped down from the staircase.

_Ah, crap!_

He rushed over to the conservatory, his legs and arms pumping for speed, and threw his weight against the door, slamming it open. The baboons gave pursuit, claws clacking against the tile floor, snarling at their escaping prey. Alpha-4 quickly slammed the door shut-

-on one of the baboon's head as it pounced at him and stuck its head through the gap to bite into his leg. He held the shotgun against its head and pulled, blowing its head to vapour, and opened the door long enough for him to push away the baboon and closed it after to stop the other from coming through. He grabbed a nearby wooden chair and wedged it under the handle to hold it back temporarily. The baboon outside scratched against the door wildly, barely chipping at the wood, and continued to screech in frustration.

He looked around the room, taking in a few deep breaths to lower the adrenaline rush in his system. The room was built in a semi-circle, leather chairs lined along the outside glass wall, a small cocktail bar set to the right of the door, a row of stools placed in front of it and a gramophone on the left. There were small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, made with finely cut crystal, most likely fake from what he would know of gemstones, each carrying at least six light-bulbs. And by the corner near the gramophone-

_Jackpot._

-stood a small metal elevator, doors open and lights on, waiting for the user to step inside.

He walked over to the elevator, feeling a small sense of pride at what he had done so far. He had survived the initial run through the village, the scrap with the lion and had avoided the baboons, all in (he glanced at his watch) over an hour. He had plenty of time to get down to the self-destruct system, activate it, escape the lab and reach the evac-point for pick-up. All in all, fast and precise, just like he wanted to be.

_Alright, time to head inside the lab and find-_

He was cut off from his thoughts by the sound of glass being shattered and a high-pitched hissing sound. He turned and raised the weapon at the new threat, but his body went numb and his mind went blank, except for the mind-numbing terror he felt.

_Definitely not good._

It was a scorpion, but the size of a car, claws as big as dumpsters smashing through the glass and knocking aside chairs, its huge tail swaying behind it, its poisonous stinger glistening menacingly in the scorching sunlight. And the final gruesome touch was the corpse of a USF soldier, the face twisted into an expression of agony and horror, hanging from its mouth half-eaten. It screeched again and slung aside the corpse it was eating, the decimated body smashing into the bar, knocking down shelves and bottles. The scorpion lowered its head and rammed forward, smashing the rest of its body through the glass with relative ease and advanced towards him, clicking its pincers in anticipation of another meal.

Alpha-4 fired his shotgun at the creature's head, causing to back away slightly, holding its claws in front of its face defensively. He pumped in another shell and fired again, keeping it distracted by having it defend its face, heading for the elevator while keeping his eyes on the giant arachnid. Once he came to the elevator, he pumped and fired again to keep it distracted as he pushed the button to head down. He continued firing at it until the doors shut and started to reload his weapon, sighing in relief.

_That was close._

He leapt back from the doors and yelped as the scorpion's stinger came through the doors, writhing in the metal in vain to sting him with its venom. The elevator started its descent and groaned when the roof wedged the tail between the floor; after several seconds of it whirring with effort to continue heading down, the scorpion screeched in pain as its stinger was torn off by the elevator, splattering its creamy blood all over the walls and floor. Alpha-4 lowered his hand from his face, having held it in front of him to stop the blood from splattering onto his face and stomped on the writhing stinger on the floor to cease its spasms.

He leaned against the wall and slapped his forehead in irritation. He had been stupid back there! He let his guard down momentarily, which allowed the scorpion to gain a few seconds of advantage over him. He was lucky his reactions were spot on in efficiency, otherwise he would have been dead. He couldn't let his guard down at any time, if he wanted to survive this mission; one split-second of unawareness would cost him his life.

_Stay focused on the mission! You can relax once you are on the chopper out of here!_

He ceased his self-scolding and held his weapon at the ready as the elevator headed down. Soon, the elevator came to a stop with a small ping and the doors slid open, revealing a long metal corridor with doors and windows lining the walls, florescent lights blaring down in some places or hanging limply from the ceiling by sparking wires, leaving parts of the hall in darkness. At the end of the hall, he could see the hall was designed like a large T, splitting into two directions, heading left and right, more rooms lining the walls from what he could determine.

He stepped of the elevator and swept his shotgun around the hall, making sure the area was clear before moving on. He glanced through the windows into one of the rooms to see a desk, a wardrobe and two bunk beds. He had arrived at the dormitories and, if he remembered correctly, the self-destruct system was on the twelfth level. He stepped down the hall cautiously, keeping his eyes and ears alert for anything that may come out at him.

He ran a hand across his forehead as the beads of sweat started to run down his forehead, adjusting his helmet slightly to make it more comfortable against his sweat-drenched hair. He really hoped that none of the creatures relied on smell to track their prey because the amount of sweat he had accumulated from the heat and the uniform was making him a walking sweat stain.

_Crash._

He stopped suddenly and pointed his shotgun at the door on the left corner, dropping to one knee. Someone or something was in the room. Whether it was friendly or hostile, he had to find out.

He approached the room slowly, keeping against the wall and crouching under the window so he couldn't be seen, the shotgun nestled in his hands and held it towards the room. He came to the door and tapped on the small console to the side, opening the door with a whoosh, and stepped into the doorway. The room was like the others, except it had a single bed, bedside table, filing cabinets and-

"Freeze!!" he yelled.

-a man wearing a white lab coat, blue jeans and black loafers was crouched over an open drawer, files and papers strewn all over the floor at his feet. He was a black man with short black hair and a small moustache, looking to be in his early thirties; he raised his hands above his head and got to his feet slowly.

"Don't shoot," he said calmly, keeping his eyes on the weapon Alpha-4 had pointed at him.

"Who are you?" Alpha-4 asked.

"My name is Doctor Manto Mdladlana. I am the Head Researcher at this lab." He turned his gaze to Alpha-4. "Who are you with?"

Alpha-4 lowered his weapon. "I am the fourth member of Alpha squad, of the USF. I am here to activate the self-destruct system and keep the infection from spreading," he explained.

The doctor lowered his hands. "Really? Where are the rest of the unit? There should be more of you!"

Alpha-4 shrugged his shoulders. "They're all dead. I am the only surviving member."

"All of them!?!" Manto exclaimed. "This is bad."

Alpha-4 went back to the door and looked outside to see if anything was coming while the doctor began gathering up the files in a briefcase he got from under the bed.

"We need to get these files to the Umbrella HQ. The research must be brought back to the company," Manto stated, clicking the case shut once he cleared out all the drawers. He went to his desk and pulled out a small notebook which he stuck in his coat pocket.

Alpha-4 had forgotten that the corporation wanted to get some of the research from the lab stored into the Red Queen for further analysis. He had been so focused on the main objective in the mission, activating the self-destruct system, that he had forgotten the secondary objectives, save any surviving employees and upload all research data to the Red Queen.

Now this presented a perfect opportunity for him to complete his mission to a higher degree than before. He would get this man to the evac-point and help him upload all research to the Red Queen. Plus, he would need the doctor's help in activating the self-destruct system as he wasn't so sure what would happen if he tried it himself.

_And you could get information about the experiments from him._

He suppressed a slight shudder that was creeping up on him. He didn't feel like going up against the mutants, like those baboons and that scorpion, without some first-hand knowledge of how to beat them.

"What sort of experiments have been conducted here?" he asked.

Manto stopped for a few seconds, taken slightly aback by the sudden question and turned to him. "Why do you want to know?"

"If I am going to get you out of here, I need to know everything about the mutants that escaped," he answered.

He could see the immense relief flood through the doctor's expression and his whole body begin to relax under the knowledge that he was now safe.

He rubbed his chin in thought momentarily. "Well, all the experiments were terminated before the infection occurred. Although the lion and baboons have probably escaped from captivity. But all the wildlife outside has probably been infected, so all we have are run-around mutated animals and a coupleof experiments, just one lion and a pack of 12 baboons," he said.

Alpha-4 nodded. "Carry on," he pressed gently. At least he wouldn't have to deal some genetically-enhanced super-weapon, just some infected animals gone wild.

"Well, I have already uploaded all the research data into the Red Queen and I have now gathered up the last of the research documents. We can activate the self-destruct system and get out of here," he explained.

Alpha-4 nodded. "There's an evac-chopper coming in to pick us up in," he checked his watch, "just over an hour. But it will only stay there for two hours before it leaves and the whole area is bombed," he explained.

"There's an underground parking lot with a tunnel that leads directly out of the village on the tenth level. It has a fully-fuelled Jeep there and can get us to the evac-point in no time at all," Manto claimed, barely keeping the excitement out of his voice.

Alpha-4 contemplated all that he had just heard and made a plan in seconds. He would escort Manto to the self-destruct system, cover him while he activated it, then they would both head for the evac-point in the Jeep and get taken back to the Umbrella Africa HQ.

"Alright, you help me activate the self-destruct system and I'll get you out of here. Okay?" he proposed, holding out his hand for the doctor to shake it.

Manto considered it and clasped his hand firmly. "Very well. Let's go."

They both headed out the room, Manto leading while Alpha-4 covered the rear. They took the left turning in the corridor and hurried to the elevator at the end, Manto inserting his keycard and typing in the code, his fingers darting across the keys in practised speed. Alpha-4 kept his eyes trained on the corridor, watching for any sign of the infected or mutants, his shotgun slung over his shoulder in exchange for his rifle. So far, nothing showed itself to him.

_Hopefully, nothing else will go wrong._

However, something did. He cursed under his breath when he heard the low-warbled moan of the panel, stating that an incorrect code was put in and rejected.

He turned to Manto. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice tinted with irritation.

Manto jumped slightly and went back to pressing the keys. "The code automatically changes every hour. To prevent intruders from taking the elevators to the main labs. Don't worry. I'll get the right code," he explained, not taking his eyes from the panel as he inputted another code.

The panel moaned again.

But was followed shortly by the moan of an infected human. Then another. And another. Until a whole chorus of moans sounded out from the corridor.

"Fuck," Alpha-4 cursed, raising his rifle and waiting for the first infected to show itself. The first zombie came from around the turning and stared at him with its dead-eyes, before it started shambling toward him, followed by several others. And he looked to see more coming out from the rooms near the elevator, raising their arms to grab him.

_You idiot! You got distracted AGAIN!! What are you, an ignorant tourist?_, his mind briefly scolded.

He pushed the thought aside and aimed at the first zombie, a woman dressed in a lab coat, blue shirt, white skirt and slippers, shooting it clean in the forehead. He turned back to the crowd coming towards and opened fire, taking out the closest first.

"SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!!!" Manto cursed as the panel kept refusing the code.

Alpha-4 continued to take down the infected one by one until his gun clicked empty and he had to reload. He hurriedly grabbed the next clip and ejected the empty clip, loading the rifle and turned to the doctor, dragging him from the panel and sticking the rifle in his hands.

"Cover me," he ordered, shoving him out of the way for him to use the panel.

He gazed at the panel for a few seconds and looked up at the doctor, firing at the infected, barely hitting any in the head to down them.

"Isn't there an override code for this thing?" he asked.

"Yes!! But it's only for emergencies!" the doctor yelled over the shots and moans.

"Well, this would be called an emergency, wouldn't it," he stated sarcastically. "What is it?"

"04...031...965!" Manto exclaimed, still firing at the zombies.

Alpha-4 inserted the code and the panel bleeped in response. He wore a small smile on his face, turning to the doors as they opened-

-and the smile vanished as a zombie leapt from the doors to bite him. He locked his arms on its shoulders, pushing its head back as it tried to lean forward to bite his neck. He quickly removed his left hand and punched the zombie square in the gut, knocking it back and ran around its back, snapping its neck swiftly with a loud crack. He shoved the dead zombie into the crowd of infected to knock them back and practically threw the doctor into the elevator before he grabbed one of the grenades from his belt, pulled the pin and threw it into the crowd of infected, dashing into the elevator and hitting the button for the twelfth floor. As the doors slid shut, he watched the grenade explode and scatter the zombies in a shower of blood and guts, the shrapnel tearing the crowd of zombies to bits instantly.

He took his rifle back from the doctor and slung it over his shoulder, taking out his pistol and handing it to the doctor while he took out his shotgun and reloaded it. At least his luck had held out for longer than it should have, but he had to be prepared as luck always ran out at some point. He gave the doctor his pistol clips and readied his weapon for when the doors would open again, making sure that he wouldn't be surprised by anything.

_Activate the self-destruct system, get to the Jeep, get out to the chopper and home._

The doors opened into a small simple room with a set of double metal doors in front of them. He held his out in front of the doctor to stop him from going ahead and cautiously approached the doors, gently pushing them open. He soon stood stunned at what he saw, this being one of the most amazing things he had ever seen. He knew that Umbrella had enough power and money to build anything they wanted and do anything they wished, but this was still mind-blowing.

They had stepped onto a T-shaped metal bridge, branching off to two other giant stalactites that hung from the ceiling, each having a metal door welded into them, and the room they had exited from was built into a pillar of rock that stretched from the roof to the floor of the cavern they had stepped into.

_If they have the power to build something like this and to create something like the Progenitor, I best be careful not to disobey them._

Although most of his loyalty was made out of his gratitude to them for making him into someone more better than a street thug, he still served them out of a little fragment of fear that they would kill him if he screwed up badly. That was the way they operated, if any employee was a danger to the corporation, they were to be eliminated. And the last thing he wanted was to be killed off and dumped in an unknown grave to rot.

Manto tapped his shoulder to get his attention and pointed to the stalactite on the left. "That is where the self-destruct system is," he stated.

Alpha-4 nodded and led the way, walking at a brisk pace to the door. Finally, this mission would be over and they could get out of here! But that didn't mean he could let his guard down yet because there was always something that came along to spoil the victory. He stood to one side of the door and the doctor stood to the other side, having the pistol ready; Alpha-4 counted to three with his fingers and they burst through the door, weapons raised and fingers on triggers.

The room was a large room with an enormous pillar of metal, whirring with motors and bleeping with gauges, standing in the centre of the room. Small generators humming and spinning with power were back against the far wall with long, thick wires connected to the main generator in the pillar. And in front of them directly was a small computer console fixed into the side of the pillar, the White Queen menu etched on the screen.

Alpha-4 pointed at the console. "You activate the system, I'll watch the door," he ordered.

Manto nodded and ran over to the console, rapidly typing on the keys. Alpha-4 watched the door, keeping his senses on full-alert, not dropping his guard for a second. He took a brief glance at his watch and saw they had thirty minutes to reach the evac-point for extraction. At this rate, they might get there just as the chopper arrived, give or take a few minutes, and be back at the HQ in no time.

Suddenly, red lights began flashing all around the room and a siren started blaring, its noise echoing down the cavern.

"The self-destruct system has been activated," the Red Queen's voice announced over the intercom, "All personnel must evacuate immediately. There are five minutes until the facility will detonate."

The intercom began repeating itself as the two men ran for the exit, heading to the elevator-

-and stopped when there heard a loud bang from the other room.

"What is that room?" Alpha-4 asked, pointing to the third stalactite.

"Main laboratories," Manto answered.

The doors blew open, crashing against the railings and falling into the darkness below. Alpha-4 readied his rifle and pointed it at the door to see-

_Dammit! Not again._

-the giant scorpion from the conservatory beforehand squeeze through the door and advance on them, emanating a screeching-hiss at them, claws snapping rapidly and its hacked tail swaying behind it.

Alpha-4 stumbled slightly and the doctor fell of his feet as the platform began to bend and groan with exertion. He looked to see the scorpion still coming towards them, causing the platform to bend more precariously. The weight of the scorpion was too much to handle and the platform was going to break apart in a few seconds. He helped the doctor to his feet and they rushed for the elevator, Alpha-4 stopping long enough to pull the pin on his last grenade and throw it at the scorpion. The explosion blew apart the scorpions upper-body and destroyed the platform it stood on, causing it to silently fall into the chasm below.

The elevator went up for a few seconds before it stopped and the doors slid open. Alpha-4 and the doctor took off at a mad run down the hall down the hall, going around the right-turn corner and bursting through the door into the parking garage. Inside was a large Jeep waiting to be used, stocked with boxes, file cabinet drawers and metal suitcases in the back, facing the open tunnel in front of it.

Alpha-4 hopped in the driver's seat while Manto took the passenger's seat, relieved that the keys were in the ignition.

"Four minutes until detonation," the Red Queen announced.

Alpha-4 turned the key in the slot and the Jeep fired up, slamming his foot on the pedal and the Jeep went speeding down the tunnel, going at a flat out 80 mph. Alpha-4 just had to drive to the evac-point and get pick-up from the chopper. Hopefully, it would be that simple...

The intercom continued to announce the time only on the ears of the infected as the Jeep sped away across the desert landscape.

"Ten seconds left. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Sequence initiated."

The alarms stopped blaring and the generator increased in power, the whir of the motors becoming a large scream of energy as electricity pulsed up the side of the pillar. The explosive concealed in the generator detonated, engulfing the generator in a huge fireball, shattering the stalactite and causing it to fall into the chasm. Following this, the other explosives placed throughout the facility detonated, destroying all the rooms and incinerating all the infected. It caused the pillar of rock to collapse and the ground under the village to fall away, dragging the buildings down into the chasm along with all the zombies and mutants inside the village.

Soon, all that was left of the village was a large fireball and billow of smoke rising from a dark, bottomless pit. When the attack choppers arrived and began to bomb the area to wipe away any remaining traces of the infection, there was barely anything left to see or do...

Alpha-4 relaxed in his seat and sighed in relief. He had performed that mission well and accomplished it fully. They had arrived at the same time as the chopper and they were gone immediately after arriving. He now sat in the helicopter in his vest and combat trousers, his combat-jersey was thrown onto another seat and his weapons dunked on the floor along with the file drawers, metal briefcases and boxes from the Jeep. Doctor Manto Mdladlana was lying down on the seat, asleep from exhaustion after the whole ordeal.

"You're amazing, man!" the engineer exclaimed. "You are only sixteen years old, on your first mission in the USF. And yet, you survive when your comrades don't, blow the facility, escape the area with the head researcher and, most likely, all the research data. You fucking rock, bro," he complimented, clapping slightly.

Alpha-4 nodded in response, feeling an immense sense of pride. He had done well for his first mission and hoped he would keep it up in his continuing work.

_Just stick with your principles, remember your training and trust your instincts_, his mind advised.

Well, he could worry about the other missions later. Right now he had some serious R&R to do after this job.

"Alpha-4, I got off the radio with HQ. Mr Spencer and the Executive Board would like to thank you for your good work and congratulate you on a complete success," the pilot informed him.

Alpha-4 smiled at that and closed his eyes to go to sleep. He knew above all else that the mission had changed him, all for the better.

He had come near death so many times during the mission, so close to living his greatest fear in reality that it would have terrified him to the core. But he had been so focused on the mission that the fear had not even entered his head once and he began to wander why he didn't feel the fear then.

When all people see what they fear greatest, no matter what they were doing at the time, it petrified them to their bones. And yet, despite coming close to his own death, he felt no tinge of fear on the mission.

But he had come to realize the reason why on the ride back to the chopper. It was because, on the battlefield, he had become Death itself, the Grim Reaper manifested in a human. The legend said that the Grim Reaper or Death decided who lived and died, to his accord and will. And throughout that mission, he had acted like that, deciding what fate would bestow his comrades and the doctor he saved, and how it would help his own accord.

And as he drifted to sleep, he knew of one thing that made sense to it all. He didn't fear dying on the mission because he had become Death itself on the battlefield. Thus, the one certain aspect of life in the Universe's many fabrications suited him on his courage, on the mission and his manifestation of Death in his soul. It was the one truth in this world and no-one could deny it in any possible way whatsoever.

The Death cannot die...

**This was an extremely long chapter to write and I hope you all like it.**

**Again apologies for racial offences that I have made.**

**You will have already guessed who the character is and I hope I wrote him well. I wanted to explain where he was from, why he always puts the mission before his comrades and where his motto comes from.**

**Hope I haven't disappointed fans of this character.**

**Anyway, Wesker and Birkin will make a brief appearance in the next chapter, and will finally be staying in the story.**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing and favouriting my story again. I am glad that you are all enjoying it!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 19!!!**


	19. Chapter 19

Nineteen

It was June 12th 1971. The lab in the Antarctica was in full use and operation, all the research staff hurrying through the lab, setting up lab equipment all designed to monitor foetal life-signs and a soft hospital bed with several midwives and doctors standing ready. The security staff stood at the ready, in case of any mishaps during the experiment and six guards stood around a young blonde-haired woman, seeming to be several weeks pregnant. And in a booth overlooking the hospital room was Alexander Ashford, constantly wringing his hands in anxiety at what would happen in the experiment.

He had spent two years preparing for this day, two long years of research, DNA analysis, gene therapy and asexual impregnation. He had spent many sleepless days and nights, eating and drinking very little, working basically non-stop in the labs to accomplish his dreams, to fulfil what he had set out to do years ago. But now it was all going to be worth it because he had accomplished something that would bring Umbrella back into the Ashford's power and would redeem himself in his eyes, his father's eyes and the eyes of his family.

_At long last, Veronica herself will be reborn!! The Ashford's will rise again!_

His face cracked into a wide smirk as he considered what effect this would have on Spencer.

_Spencer, your reign of power over Umbrella has come to an end, my friend._

It had been long and arduous journey for him, but in the next few moments, it would come to a perfect conclusion for his family.

It started when he had first exhumed Veronica's body. As his family history was widely known across the globe, it was common knowledge that his ancestor Veronica Ashford was a being of incredible intelligence and divine beauty. And he knew that in order to bring the Ashford family back to power in Umbrella's hierarchy, he needed to create a child with all of Veronica's intelligence and beauty to revive her legend tenfold.

However, the main problem was how to create such a being with only the corpse of his ancestress and a few slides of her DNA to work with. He had all the materials to work with for his experiment, namely his ancestresses' body, but he had no idea where to proceed from there, as he had no idea what he was looking for to accomplish what he aspired to create from the experiment.

_I shall have to thank the 'Human Genome Project' for providing me with the solution to that predicament._

He had come across a book containing all the current information on the project in his family library at Rockfort during one of his return visists and had read throug it all to see if he could find the help he needed to continue the experiment.

And as luck or destiny would have it, he did.

The Human Genome Project was originally started as a way to map the DNA genetic structure of humanity and they had already discovered over several hundreds of genes that were responsible for certain aspects of human physique and psychology. And the people behind the project were still discovering and recording new genes that held responsibility for even more considerable factors involved in the way that humans were designed. One example was that they had found particular genes responsible for making a person more susceptible towards a particular disease, making the effects of the single disease more damaging to the patient.

But the one factor that interested him the most was the genes that were responsible for a human being's intelligence. It seemed that the project claimed that humans acquired their intelligence not through education or learning speed, but from the way that certain bases and nucleotides in their DNA combined themselves during foetal production, increasing their speed of thought processing, information uptake, memory recall and mental interpretation of information. Thus that is how child prodigies are born.

And, using this information, he searched throughout Veronica's genetic structure and DNA combinations to find the gene which gave her the legendary intellect. Thus, with two years of searching he found it.

Once he found the gene, he enhanced and upgraded it to have the child be bestowed with a higher intellectual capacity than Veronica herself. This child would be a greater being than the best of the Ashford family, it would be the greatest prodigy to ever walk the Earth's history and would be the one to show Spencer who really controlled Umbrella.

_Project Veronica is finally coming to fruition. In just a few moments, Veronica will walk the Earth again!!_

After he had modified the intelligence gene, he took a sperm sample from himself and implanted it in a surrogate mother, merging the gene with the fertilised egg. Now, today was the day that the project would reach its end.

There was a knock at the door and one of the doctors stepped inside. He was dressed in a white hospital gown, yellow rubber gloves, plain white trousers and black shoes wrapped in plastic film.

"We are ready to begin Mr Ashford," he informed.

_It's time._

"Bring her in," Alexander ordered.

It was a few moments before the security brought in the surrogate mother and laid her on the bed, the doctors and midwives standing around her expectantly while Alexander stood up so close to the glass that his face was nearly pressed against it.

Soon, the woman started to go into labour and Alexander couldn't stop himself from wincing at her screams. The doctors and midwives shouts of encouragement merged into a chorus of uninterpretable shouts and inane gibberish that Alexander had no idea what they were saying. Hours passed deliberately slow and the woman's screams were echoing above the shouts of the other people in the room with her, Alexander cringing in fear at each scream every few minutes. As the process was taking quite some time to end, he couldn't help but let the doubt settle over his mind. What if she died and the child did as well? What if the experiment failed? And what if Spencer found out about it? What would he do?

_No! I have come to far for it to end in failure!_

He tried to pass the time by pacing around the room, wringing his hands out or rubbing his emerald earring for luck, hoping against all probability that the project would be a success. The doctors and midwives all crowded around the woman so he couldn't see what was happening inside, only hearing the woman's screams and the encouraging comments coming from the people around her. The process was long and arduous, longer than Alexander would have expected it to be for just one child. He knew enough about child-birth that if the procedure took too long, there was a chance that the mother, child or both would die, and that train of thought brought an immense feeling of dread crushing down on his heart, choking the life out of him.

Until, after nearly six hours in labour, one of the doctors held up an object wrapped in a soft red blanket and held it in front of the window for Alexander to see the small, crying face of a baby.

"Congratulations Mr Ashford. You have a healthy baby girl," the doctor announced.

Alexander cheered at the top of his lungs, the immense joy and happiness flooding through him like a tsunami of pure, spring water, and he hurried out the door to the room to see his daughter.

_I've done it!! I'VE DONE IT!!! The project was a success._

He had brought the legend of Veronica back to life tenfold, he had created a child to surpass their great ancestress herself. Not to mention, with his daughter as the one to gain back Umbrella from Spencer, this would make his father's spirit rest in eternal peace and Alexander himself would be redeemed in the eyes of his family. With this divine child, the Ashford family would become greater than it had ever been, and it would be because of him.

He entered the room and took the baby gently from the doctor's arms, gazing down at the small, innocent face of new-life.

"Alexia, my sweet daughter," he said, his voice almost a whisper, tears of joy running down his cheeks. "You are the greatest of us all and are destined for great things."

The doctor cleared his throat and brought Alexander out of his loving stare of Alexia's divinity. "There were, however, complications sir, during the procedure," he stated.

Alexander's joyful mood took a nose-dive and the suffocating feeling of dread had returned. "You mean, she has an illness, or a deformity, or...or..." he stammered, his hands begin to tremble slightly.

The doctor held up his hands defensively and shook his head. "No sir, she is perfectly healthy and is well beyond the predictions that we had deduced. But well-" He faltered and gestured for a midwife to step forward, carrying another wrapped piece of cloth.

The doctor took it from her hands and showed it to Alexander, who was shocked to see the face of a newborn baby staring back at him.

"What is this?" he asked in complete shock.

"Your son, sir. The procedure had taken longer than expected because she was carrying twins," the doctor explained.

Alexander shifted Alexia to his right arm and held her firmly, taking her twin brother in his left hand, thanking the doctor. He walked out the room and went down the hall until he came to his office, opening the door and slumping into the chair by his desk. He rested his children on the desk, making sure they were comfortable and held his hands flat-out above them, watching their little hands grab hold of his fingers with vacant eyes as his mind whirled with thoughts.

_Twins? My experiment has given me twins? This is...unexpected._

The thought that this experiment would have produced twins had never occurred to him. He had just went for the factor of successfully acquiring a child prodigy, in which he had with Alexia, but he now was also the father of an above-average intelligent son. And the thing that troubled him the most was what to do with his son. He knew what Alexia's duty was, to become the goddess of the Ashford family and lead them back into power with Umbrella. But what use could he find for his son? He couldn't just abandon his son to die, it went against all his morals as a newly appointed father.

Then it came to him. His mother had, for some time, constantly beseeched him to find a suitable woman to wed and have a son to become the heir to the Ashford legacy after he died. And now he had that heir in his hands before him. He would train his son to become the next heir of the Ashford legacy, to carry on its dynasty while Alexia would become the goddess that the family would worship for ages to come. So now, all his plans were complete because of this one simple experiment and now he had no worries over Spencer's actions or the fate of the Ashford family.

He looked at his daughter with love and affection. "Alexia, my goddess," he said in a vast sense of pride and happiness.

The baby girl squealed in response, a smile upon her lips.

Alexander turned to his son. "Alfred, my heir to the throne," he said, still feeling that same sense of pride and happiness.

He took his children in his arms and held them close to him like a father would do, rocking them in his arms until they fell asleep, curled up against each other. Alexander held a wide, triumphant smile on his face as he looked down at his children, knowing full well what this meant. The Ashford would become the greatest first and finest legacy for the millenia to come.

However, though Alexander may love them and feel pride for them in helping him achieve his goals for now, but he would be terribly surprised when he discovered what the twins' goals were and how he would help them accomplish these goals...

September 2nd, 1977. The Umbrella Training Facility was in full activity for its first time this year. Dozens of candidates stood in a large crowd in the main hall, their endless chatter echoing around the large room. Facility staff sat behind several tables placed throughout the room, each topped with computer consoles showing the Red and White Queens' screens and other pieces of machinery waiting to be used. Everyone was waiting patiently or talking with others to pass time until Director Marcus came into the hall to give them instructions in applying as students to join the facility.

Marcus himself stood inside the lecture room through the double doors on the hall's second floor, silently loathing this part of the job, having to leave the lab and his work so he could admit some ignorant, pathetic students that Spencer and his club house had scrounged from the universities and colleges around the world. It was both time-wasting and unproductive for him as his research was coming to a mould-breaking conclusion. He knew it was because everyday he looked at the leeches' DNA and the leeches themselves, they were changing, the Progenitor and the leeches, becoming something new, something incredible and mind-blowing. It was so close to showing itself to him that he knew there was something immensely glorious to emerge from his work, something that would change the human race forever.

This was what he was inspiring and slaving to accomplish, yet he couldn't do anything about it when he had to be called to work on the pointless inner-politics of Umbrella. But as much as he hated doing it, he HAD to do it to keep Spencer appeased and satisfied enough that he wouldn't keep inquiring about his work. It was important to his research on the leeches and the Progenitor that he do this part of his job and he found some small comfort in that fact alone, a small measure of assurance that he was still doing something that was advancing his research further. He took in a deep breath and blew it out, straightening his tie and his jacket, then walked to the doors placing his hand on the doorknob.

_Better get this done sooner rather than later._

He opened the doors and stepped up to the railing of the balcony. He walked around the statue of justice with the scale puzzle; it had been one of Spencer's little puzzle-locks that opened the secret passage behind his portrait on the stairs He didn't really approve of all this puzzle nonsense and spy-movie copying, but Spencer was a fanatical fan of spy-movies and had wanted to include the trap-and-puzzle-lock theme as part of his security measures in protecting the work. Marcus, although disapproving of the spy security, didn't mention any of his disagreements to Spencer and had made his own security measures in his lab, for protection against intruders.

The room fell silent and everyone looked up at him, all talk and chatter had ceased as everyone awaited a speech or list of instructions.

"As you know, you are here to receive your training in becoming members and employees of the Umbrella corporation. Here, this will be your home and learning centre for you to begin your work with Umbrella. We hope that you will pass our standards and achieve great things in your employment with the corporation," he stated, pausing enough for them to allow that information to register in their heads and wait for any questions or applause.

Marcus had recited this same speech several times over with all the candidates that had passed through the facility, changing only a few words each time, and congratulating them with a similar speech when they were to leave and become employees in the corporation. It was the kind of speech he liked, short and simple, so that they would understand it more easily and he wouldn't have to go into greater detail so more time wouldn't be wasted as a consequence.

"Now, head to over to each of the desks and fill out the entrance forms, then submit a retinal and fingerprint scan so you will be inputted in the security system. It is standard procedure and necessary to walk throughout the whole facility," Marcus explained, as quickly as he could.

He had hoped every time he made these explanations and speeches that this would be the end of his time to spend here, but he had to stay in the hall and monitor the application procedures with the new students to make sure everything went smoothly. He couldn't help but hold his head in his hand and scowl slightly at this part of the job.

_Hopefully, even these idiots won't make any mistakes in filling out a simple form._

Most of these candidates had the intelligence and qualifications to work in the corporation, and all of them had the common sense to keep quiet about the work. But there was really one key trait Marcus wanted to see in his pupils, which he hadn't seen so far with previous candidates, was the dedication to continue their work on the research. If one person could show that they had the dedication to continue the work, no matter what occurred, that was what Marcus wanted to see in a candidate. But all of them showed the same vague dedication that bordered on just treating the work as something of little importance.

_Ignorant, moronic fools. They have no of what the Progenitor is by itself and what it will be as a whole-_

"Director Marcus, are you ill, sir?" the assistant director asked, interrupting Marcus' thoughts.

Marcus looked up at the assistant director, keeping his expression neutral. "Yes. Just the stress of my work," he answered truthfully. The combined work of his research and the priorities of the director position were taking their toll on his health. He rarely ate anything healthy and drank endless amounts of coffee, and slept possibly three-four hours a day, spending most of his time working in the labs and the training facility.

"Have there been any good candidates this time?" he asked wearily, expecting a negative answer, as always.

"Actually, we did get two quite decent ones that might have a future here," he responded.

That got Marcus' attention. "Who?"

The assistant director pointed out towards a set of chairs at the front entrance where two individuals were sat. One by a nearby table writing on a small notebook while reading from a large textbook he held in one hand. The other was sat the far end of the chairs, looking out at the other candidates with a neutral expression

The one reading and writing had sandy blonde hair that reached to below his ears, looking as if it was in need of a trim, steely blue eyes that remained fixed on the book, never once taking a glance off the book he was reading to check his constantly-writing hand for any mistakes. He looked quite young for his age and to be a student at the facility, almost like he was just entering his teens; he had what looked like fresh acne on his face that would have to be tended to.

The other looked a little older than first, though still quite young. He had slick-backed golden blonde hair, his arms crossed over his chest as he gazed out at the people around him, lost in his own thoughts. But Marcus could only tell that because he was facing this way, due to his pair of sunglasses that were perched on his nose, concealing his eyes behind dark lenses, making it hard to know where his eyes were really facing.

Marcus stroked his chin in thought. There was something about them that he couldn't place. Something about them that separated and individualised them from the other candidates.

He turned to the assistant director. "Who are they?" he asked.

The assistant director pulled out two application forms and read through them. "The one writing on the notebook is William Birkin. He is an exceptional academic genius and excelled through the Central Washington University. He is the youngest candidate we have ever had, as he is only fifteen years old, but his qualifications far surpass his years. He is definitely someone the corporation would want to have," he explained.

Marcus took the forms from the assistant director and read through them. "And the other one?"

"He is Albert Wesker, 17 years old. He is an exceptional genius and has many qualifications, though not so much as Birkin. But he is a very professional and practical man, the kind who checks things over before proceeding. From what I can guess at, those two are equals in a way and they would go far in Umbrella."

Marcus found he agreed with the assistant director on this. From what the forms said about them, they were keen scientific geniuses and bone-fide child prodigies, each of them worthy enough to be involved in the work on the Progenitor. Their combined intellect and knowledge would make great advancements in the Progenitor research. At least that was the way Spencer and the board would see it.

The one thing Marcus wanted to see was if they had the dedication and acceptance to work on the Progenitor, to have the vision to see what the Progenitor is and would become, to forsake the world around them so they could work on the Progenitor. Only then would Marcus think of them as worthy for working with the Progenitor.

_Well, time reveals all things. I'll just have to wait and see._

"Attention," he called.

The room fell silent again and everyone looked up at him.

"Now that you have applied into the facility, I think you should get settled in your dormitories and have some food at the canteen. The security staff shall take you towards your rooms to drop off your stuff and take you to the canteen for your evening meals. Thank you."

He quickly left the hall and headed for the lab entrance inside the astronomy tower, to get back to his work before anyone could stop him for any insignificant reason. He had reached the most important part of the experiment and was about to come to its conclusion, and there was no time to waste. Spencer would come for his research one day, he wasn't a man to be kept waiting and had a tendency to ignore work progression so long as money could be made for him.

_The fool has no idea what the Progenitor is becoming, not like I do. Soon, I shall hold the greatest power, power even greater than him and he will pose no threat to me._

Marcus' face threatened to split in two from the razor-like smile that spread from cheek to cheek as he thought of becoming greater than Spencer, to be the one to put HIM in his place. It would be a gratifying experience all around.

He hurried into the second floor entrance of the astronomy tower and headed through to the elevator outside the church, that would take him down into the labs. He had work to do.

However, in his haste, he failed to notice that, although it was a difficult angle to see anything from the front entrance patio, Albert Wesker had been watching him head to the lab...

**Sorry for the late update. Writer's block.**

**I hope you will like that Wesker and Birkin have come into this story, if only for a brief time. I shall write on their personalities and involvement in Umbrella over the next few chapters.**

**I will most certainly try to get their chracters right, as most people are hoping that I get them spot-on-target correct.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing this far. I hope you keep writing your own stories!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 20!!!**


	20. Chapter 20

Twenty

"Please be seated and silent," the lecturer commanded.

Albert Wesker took his seat in front of his desk in the conference room on the second floor of the main hall, the other students doing the same thing. The lecturer then pressed in a code on the computer console etched into the lectern on the small stage at the front of the room, lowering the projector screen behind him and an image of three words came on.

Wesker sat calmly in his seat, adjusting his sunglasses slightly when they showed any hint of falling out of place. He didn't have a particular wanting of showing his eyes to anyone; they had a tendency to betray his real personality. They showed him as a bright, care-free, friendly and innocent individual, whilst his personality was cool, sensible, solitary and intelligent in all prospects. That was the personality he showed the world and he planned on keeping it at that, meaning he wouldn't be seen without his sunglasses by anyone.

"As you all know, you have all been employed by one of the most advanced pharmaceutical corporations in the globe," the lecturer began saying in a speech to the rest of the class. "You are the best of any people from all the distinguished colleges in the world and have the qualifications we want from our employees to be the best they can in this corporation."

Wesker felt a small sense of pride and self-respect on his qualifications. He knew that the director, James Marcus, and his faculty staff were more than impressed with his record from his university. He had a PhD degree in microbiology, human anatomy and chemistry, all of them acquired at the age of seventeen, having sped through college at the age of eleven, starting his degrees in university at fourteen. That, coupled with his law-enforcement diplomas from his time in the police academy, made him a very sought-after individual in Umbrella.

He had taken science as his future-occupation as a way of finding something that was suitable for his intellect to work on for sometime. He had agreed to work for Umbrella when they presented the opportunity because they were the biggest in the pharmaceutical business now, and had the technology and money he needed to do his own work. Since science was the one of the best of Wesker's taken subjects throughout his short academic life, he would take a career in science for the time being. It was very wise to take a career that you were good at and stick with it.

_At least until something better comes along. Last thing I need is to become attached to something that will end up putting me at risk._

Obsession was an emotional trait that Wesker personally stayed clear of. When people became obsessed and fanatically attached to anything, they tended to lose track of their own sense of self-preservation and end up killing themselves. Wesker always had a sense of self-preservation in whatever he did, always thinking about keeping himself safe and on top of things.

He wasn't a cowardly man, his accommodations from his teachers in the police academy would confirm that he handled himself excellently in combat scenarios and never buckled when under fire, but Wesker had always wanted to make sure that he had all the best chances in any situation and that he knew what to expect from any complications that would occur.

Which was why he had went through the police academy in the first place. He knew that, as a child prodigy and with a high understanding of science, big corporations and government organisations would want him working with them on the spot, and most of those reasons for hiring people of great intellectual promise would have been involved with something particularly illegal. So he had gone through the police academy to learn about how the law worked and how the police force operated in all situations, to see how he could use them to keep himself on top and out of reach from threats.

And this sense of self-preservation had always kept him alive through life and he wouldn't go ignoring it any time soon, not even while he worked for Umbrella.

The lecturer turned to the screen and started explaining the meaning of the words, using the exact same words that Marcus had used in the meeting with his staff years ago.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Wesker's lips before he dismissed it from his expression quickly. He found it quite amusing that Marcus had put up these words as the company motto in this line of work, saying that they were all supposed to follow these rules to elevate themselves higher in the company.

_Quite ironic, since some people probably don't even follow these rules themselves._

Wesker knew that this had to be some kind of test, something Marcus had put before them to see if they could understand what the words really said to them and what they had to learn from them.

Obedience would get you far, if you only showed it to people who had greater power than your own. For example, Wesker was fully aware that being obedient to Marcus would get him far in this facility as he was the director, and Marcus would expel him if he showed any sign of disobedience.

Discipline was the only word that Wesker truly agreed with, as Wesker himself was disciplined in everything he did, be it personal or professional. He always made sure that everything went smoothly for himself and his work, leaving no chances for errors or mistakes, taking care and consideration with his work to ensure that nothing went wrong and would come back to reflect on himself.

Unity was the one word that he couldn't agree with because such acts brought you down. In science, the only way doctors, researchers and professors became elevated higher than others in their fields of expertise was because they had something that others didn't, something that made them better than their accomplices. It was the same for corporations like Umbrella, they were the largest because they had contacts in high places and people who also held positions in the global politics working with them, making them greater than their rivals.

As Wesker looked around the room at the others, he could see that most of them agreed with the words and their meanings, labelling themselves as the ones who were destined for low positions in the company.

_Although, there are exceptions._

One example was the boy sat at the far end, looking in disdain at the words and scoffed at their meanings. The youngest trainee to be admitted to the facility and the superior mind in intelligence, which Wesker could admit without any hint of jealously or envy, even to Wesker.

Wesker knew that he would meet people who were smarter than he was when he joined in Umbrella. As the corporation would want the best scientific minds they could find, he and Birkin were ample candidates for the corporation and would be selected above everyone else, but not only for their youth and speedy academic records.

And looking at Birkin's reaction to the lecture now, it was obvious that Birkin wasn't the type of person to obey those kind of words at all. From Wesker could tell, just from looking at Birkin, he seemed to be the kind of man who just wanted to work as much as he wanted without anyone around him to interfere in his work, preferbably to work on what he chose himself and to stick with it, only providing information when he saw fit. So, Birkin wasn't really a follower of the motto himself, although he would be obedient if threatened by someone with greater power than him.

_Especially concerning a powerful individual like Lord Spencer._

Wesker knew beyond any doubt that Spencer was the real man pulling the strings in the company, the real authority in Umbrella. Everyone knew that Spencer was the leader of Umbrella, ever since that announcement 9 years ago about the corporation's establishment. And now it seemed that he was the only power in the corporation, ever since Edward Ashford had died suddenly and his son Alexander had left for some facility in Antarctica. Plus, Wesker could tell that Marcus didn't particularly show any concern about working in the company's politics and just sought to work on what Umbrella had.

Ironically, Wesker saw a similarity between Marcus and Birkin, in that they both ignored the motto completely and worked on similar planes of thinking; they would only be obedient if the work was threatened, didn't care about their personal lives or appearances in letting themselves work incessantly and were reluctant to share their work with others. And the amusing thing about that is that Marcus was the man who made the motto, yet was reluctant to follow it.

Wesker had discerned this from his first meeting with Marcus, during his application yesterday. Marcus had looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and that he had been rubbing his forehead as if ill, and his clothes showed a lot of creases that he had tried in vain to remove before coming. His speech was slightly hurried, the undertone in his voice revealing his obvious impatience to leave the room and go back to work underneath the astronomy tower. Finally, when Marcus paused to allow questions to be asked, Wesker caught the faint trace of hope on Marcus' face, showing that he hoped that no-one would ask him any questions so he could leave.

Birkin showed the same personality traits on that day. When they had arrived, he had immediately seated himself away from the other candidates so he could read the textbook he had and write in his notebook while Wesker had seated himself away from other people so he could discern what the other candidates were like. Birkin only raised his head in response to Marcus' instructions in applying into the facility, then had went back to his work when he had applied.

That was one of the talents Wesker had in life, his ability to read, to know the way they think and act just from his first impressions of them, learning how he could use them to help him and his work. Another fine lesson of life he had learnt was that you should make friends with the right people to help get yourself far in life. And that lesson would certainly be worth thinking about in Umbrella's heirarchy.

_In fact, Birkin is one of the right people momentarily._

Wesker knew that Marcus, Spencer and Umbrella's higher-ups were up to something secret, some great scientific achievement that no one else had, which is why they were hiring new staff, and Wesker wanted to find out what it was. He first became suspicious when he saw Marcus hurry over to the astronomy tower nearby; it had to be a front of some kind, some passage that led to what Umbrella really did underneath their bright statement for 'Preserving the health of the people'. And Birkin was probably Wesker's ticket inside.

Although he could have done it himself, there were three main reasons that he would need Birkin on his side. Firstly, if Wesker proceeded alone up Umbrella's ranks, it would cast suspicion towards him and Spencer may begin to spy on him, as to ensure he wouldn't be a threat to him. Wesker knew that Spencer was nothing more than a paranoid megalomaniac and would eliminate every and all possible threats to his seat of power, no matter who it was.

Secondly, if he and Birkin were to advance in the ranks together, nobody would get suspicious about them as the higher-ups would know about their academic history. And Marcus would most certainly put in a good word for them if they proved themselves in the training facility. And finally, both of them would need each other, Wesker to keep away any suspicions from Spencer and Birkin's reasons would be for his work; Birkin was the kind of person who would be fiercely dedicated to his work and experienced in only science, meaning he would be unable to work in the corporation without assistance. As they were employed in a business enterprise, they would be called upon to work with and speak to a lot of people, whether they are science, security or office personnel.

And Birkin was more of a 'book-smart' person, preferring to work alone and not have to discuss his work with anyone. So he would need someone who was his equal in books, but was also experienced in talking with people, especially the higher-ups...and Spencer.

_I guess Birkin and I may be partners for a while._

Whether they liked it or not, they would have to work with each other to get what they wanted, if they wanted to do it without getting Spencer's paranoia keeping them under watch. So Wesker had to stick with Birkin for the duration of his employment with Umbrella.

He sat through the rest of the lecture, following every instruction given and listening carefully to what was said, then went to his dormitory room for the rest of the day. He needed to consider other options and solutions to problemsor consequences that may occur. One of the most notable traits in Wesker's personality was his practicality. And he was always practical in everything he did...

Later that night, near enough to midnight, the entire training facility was shut down for the night. Lights turned off, doors locked, computers shut down, the kitchen closed, food stored away, rooms cleaned out and files put away. Every person had went to bed for a night's rest except for several individuals who were up working on whatever they wished.

One of the individuals up was the young William Birkin, reading through one of the many textbooks he had brought and writing page after page of notes for him to read over later. He sat at his desk by the window in his bedroom, the lamp casting the only source of illumination in the room, the rest of his room encased in darkness.

_There is so much to learn from the facility's library. I hope there is more to learn once I get past these useless training sessions._

Birkin had spent most of his time reading the books he had brought with him and those in the library that he found most interesting, taking endless amount of notes on anything he didn't know. Which didn't really amount to much, as there was barely anything he didn't know about, though he knew that every bit of information was worth it.

Science was Birkin's passion in life. And he loved to learn everything he could about it, particularly in the biological and chemical sense as he found them his best field of expertise. He had always been fascinated with science, ever since he was a child, making him the 'nerdy' kid in his neighbourhood. But he didn't care what the other kids thought of him as he generally kept to himself and his passion, staying from others so he wouldn't get in trouble.

He won every science fair that had taken place at his school, sailing through all his schools, leaving high school at the age of 12 and sailing through the Central Washington University with a full PhD in Biochemistry, Biology and Chemistry. At the age of 15, he had graduated with full honours and was approached by Umbrella, offering him the chance to work on the research he wanted with the latest technology and completely on his own time accord.

_Then why am I stuck here with all these pompous idiots?_

He had thought that as he had such an impressive academic record, they would have put him straight into a lab coat and sent him to work in their laboratories, but instead he was stuck here with a bunch of ingrates believing that they were smarter than him as he was only 15.

He had more intelligence than any of them combined, possibly being the smartest in the whole facility, besides Marcus and the boy with the sunglasses. Those two seemed to be the only other people with intelligence, enough to be considered as child-prodigies themselves.

As Birkin abandoned the train of thought and went back to working, a knock sounded on his bedroom door.

_Strange. No one should really be wanting to see me now._

He walked over to the door and opened it a crack-

-to see the other teenager in the facility Albert Wesker standing outside, his sunglasses still on his face at this time of night.

"What are you doing here?" Birkin asked, his face showing his obvious confusion.

Wesker placed his hand on the door, staring at him impassively. "May I come in?" he asked, his voice emotionless.

Birkin thought over it for a few seconds, wondering why Wesker would come and see him now. It did seem Wesker would come and see him as he was a solitary man like Birkin, that was proven when they had applied as he sat himself away from everyone else.

_Then he must have a good reason for coming to see me now._

Birkin stepped aside and opened the door fully, allowing Wesker to walk inside.

The room wasn't exactly tidy as Birkin was not a good organiser, except if it was needed for his work. He didn't really organise any of his work as it took up too much time that he would be using to work. All the notes he had written were scattered around the room, most stacked on his bed and desk, while other pieces of paper were lying on the floor, crumpled from being stepped on.

Wesker walked through the room, taking brief glances at the top sheet of the piles he walked past, soon coming to an empty chair in which he sat himself down, looking at Birkin. Birkin shut the door and walked over to his desk, leaning against it and folded his arms over his chest, looking over at Wesker.

"I see that you like to write down every little detail and aspect of whatever you read," Wesker stated.

Birkin shrugged his shoulders. "A scientist should record anything that they learn or discover from their experiments, no matter whether it is a success or a failure."

Wesker leaned back in the chair. "You really are a devoted man of science," he said.

"And that is a bad thing?" Birkin questioned.

It was Wesker's turn to shrug his shoulders and got up from his chair to look out the window.

"Come and look at this," he ordered, keeping his eyes focused on looking outside the window.

Birkin came over to the window and looked outside to see a walkway leading out from an astronomy tower in the distance to what looked like the ruins of a church. An elderly man walked down the walkway towards the church and disappeared around the side.

_What the...?_

"Director Marcus has also been going down that way for some reason," Wesker stated calmly.

Birkin looked at him. "Why?"

Wesker looked back. "Whatever this facility is using to train us is going to affect where we go. Some of us will go to work in pharmaceuticals, while others will work on what Marcus has hidden in that church," he explained.

"How do you know that Marcus has something under the church?" Birkin asked, sitting in the chair by his desk.

"I tried to get there myself, but the guards denied me access, saying that only staff and graduates selected by Marcus are permitted beyond that point. Whatever Marcus has there is important to him, Spencer and the company that he has to hide it beneath ruined buildings, deep under these mountains, and behind closed doors and armed guards." Wesker walked over to the door and looked outside to make sure no one was listening. Once he made sure it was clear, he turned back to Birkin. "I intend to find out what Marcus and the company are hiding," he finished, determination faintly traceable in his voice.

Birkin arched an eyebrow at Wesker. He felt even more confused now. "But why are you explaining this to me? Why not just keep your plans a secret?" he asked.

Wesker walked to an adjacent side of the desk and leaned towards Birkin slightly. "I need your help," he said firmly.

Birkin felt his eyes widen. "B-b-b-b...b.," he stammered.

Wesker held up a hand to silence him. "Obviously what they are hiding is a huge scientific discovery and they are training us candidates to determine who works on it and who doesn't. Like you said, I can go alone, but that would cast suspicion on my part. And suspicions from bureaucrats leads to them getting paranoid and start to kill us. If I go alone, they will watch over me like rats over garbage left out for a month. But if you and I go together, we'll be safe, as you and I are both certified prodigies who the corporation would die for to have work with them on this discovery," he explained, laying all the facts out.

Birkin stood up and stared Wesker full in the face. "Why should I come along?"

Wesker sighed. "Do you want to work on something that the corporation wants to keep secret, something that is scientific in essence that Marcus, who is also a scientist and a founder of the company, is working on it with them. Or would you prefer to remain in training, where the others believe that you are some punk kid who believes he is better than they are, when in fact you are?" he asked sarcastically.

Birkin thought over it. Wesker had just come to his door and offered him a proposal in joining him in working on a great scientific discovery that the corporation was hiding. He still had no idea of what Wesker's true motives on the subject were, but he was right in that they would be working on it, whether they went ahead or not. But if he chose, did he want to have to sit throughout boring and useless training sessions, with incompetent and arrogant nobodies that had as much common sense as a turnip?

_Either way, you are going to where Wesker has told you will be going. But really, what have you got to lose by joining him?_

Birkin nodded. "Alright, I'm in. Partner?" He held out his hand for Wesker to shake.

"Partner," Wesker agreed, clasping Birkin's hand and shaking it...

**Here we are!! The first delve into Wesker and Birkin's personalities and chracters!**

**I do hope I have got them spot on target (especially for you Chaed) as it was very difficult to write about them.**

**If anyone can suggest anyway of improving this chapter, please speak up. I want to get Wesker and Birkin exactly right, as they are some of the best characters in the whole RE series.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing this far! Thanks to everyone all around!!**

**And stay tuned for chapter XXI!!!**


	21. Chapter 21

Twenty One

September 13th. A bright autumn afternoon, the sun high in the sky with white clouds flowing around it like children dancing around a bonfire on Guy Fawkes' Night. Its golden rays reflecting off the bright mosaic of colours that Raccoon Forest had become, turning the scenery into one of Mother Nature's most beautiful works of art. But this did very little to ease the mind of one certain individual.

Marcus felt scared. No, petrified. He had never felt this much fear in all his life, save for the time he first met Sergei Vladimir. Though he managed to hide his fear from the man seated behind the desk in front of him, except for his consistently fidgeting hands. As he hadn't been meeting with him face-to-face for a while, he had forgotten how intimidating the man was, even when he was silent.

Spencer leaned back in his office chair, reading the forms again for the third time, not saying a single word after Marcus handed him the pieces of paper to read, his glasses perched on his nose and his hardened, cold eyes scanning the printed paper. He had wanted to review the candidates' forms himself and ask Marcus' opinion on them before he allowed any action to be taken. Since Spencer was more in control of Umbrella's inner-workings, every decision had to be run by him personally before approval.

_I hope this won't take long. I have work to do back at the lab._

Marcus had expected the meeting to be relatively quick, but as he was suggesting an addition to the Progenitor project, Spencer wanted to make sure they could trust the candidates. Marcus had decided to make a new and rather hasty promotion in the facility's staff, calling Spencer's secretary to request a meeting with him over the subject matter.

Over the past few days, Marcus had noticed that Wesker and Birkin were working at a much higher capacity and efficiency to the others. They were working as a great partnership, surpassing the other students and earning a reputation (whether good or bad) from the staff, exceeding the facility's expectations of them both. And yet there still was a competition between them as to see which of the pair was the better half.

Though Marcus wasn't a 'people-smart' person, he could tell that Birkin and Wesker had opposite natures to their work, different approaches in how they operated things, Birkin preferring to work through the whole experiment without changing any details so that he could record all the data he wanted. Consecutively, Wesker was more practical, wanting to make sure every detail was thought through, that there was no chance of anything going wrong and that everyone was prepared for any trouble before starting the experiments.

The other staff had noticed how well they were doing and how undermined their skills were with their current work, all of them agreeing with Marcus that they should be promoted sooner. He even thought about letting them in on the Progenitor and the real work that Umbrella was doing, but he would need Spencer's permission first before he made such a move. Hopefully, Spencer will see how much the candidates were worth and let them join the research.

_Maybe I will let them join MY research._

Marcus had thought about that idea and it seemed to work well with him, although he wouldn't involve them directly in his work. He was so close, so close to finding out the truth of the Progenitor, with the help of his leeches, that he could taste its sweet flavour of triumph. But if Wesker and Birkin proved their worth with the Progenitor, he would probably explain to them about it and have them help him keep it safe from Spencer. He would never did mention it out loud, but he believed tthat all Spencer cared about the Progenitor for was its financial uses and how it would help his corporation.

_He cannot grasp the true worth of its genetically-modifying properties. He is a-_

"What are your opinions on Albert Wesker and William Birkin?" Spencer asked out of the blue, interrupting Marcus' thoughts.

Marcus blinked a few times as his mind focused on the question that he was asked. "Well, they are certainly working at a much higher level than the other students and they have already passed the training tests," he stated, keeping his answers as short as possible, to get the meeting over with quickly so he could get back to the labs and his work.

Spencer removed his glasses and looked at Marcus. "Both the knowledge, experimental and mental tests?" he asked, his eyes and expression giving away nothing.

Marcus nodded. "Yes, they seem fully capable of working on the Progenitor, though Birkin is a little attached to the current ways that science works. But I believe that he can adjust his ideology on science to fit with our work."

"How did they advance so quickly?" Spencer asked, suspicion creeping into his tone of voice.

"Both of them were quite anxious to move on, as they themselves know that they are being undervalued in the facility by going through training. Though they were both keen to move on, I don't think Birkin had the courage to request an advancement in person. Wesker most likely made a partnership with Birkin and they advanced forward together," Marcus guessed.

Spencer had lit up a cigar and was smoking it while Marcus was talking. He blew out the smoke and leaned his elbows on the desk, his fingers intertwined with the cigar nestled gently in between the tips, the grey smoke trailing off the end.

"Very well," he said after a moment of tense silence, "if you think they are suitable for the work and are ready to begin, I have no objections.

Marcus kept his vast relief from showing on his face and got up to leave, heading for the door. He needed to get back to the laboratories and continue working, he had wasted enough time in the meeting with Spencer. Every time he had been called away from his leeches and the labs, he felt like he was abandoning the work, leaving it unguarded for any person to steal and he couldn't help but feel a large burning sensation of self-loathing incinerating his heart, making it hard to breath.

He couldn't help but worry, worry that the work he had been dedicating his entire adulthood to was going to be taken by the very man seated behind the desk he had been seated near. That his work would be worth nothing. That it was just something for a corporation to split and distribute among minds that couldn't even see the value that was there before their own eyes, eyes that had lost sight of what was important to a scientist.

_The leeches and the work are MINE!! It is mine by right!! And no one shall have it, NO ONE!!! Not Spencer, not Umbrella, not any of these worthless idiots, who can't understand the splendid results that I came up with, even if I were to force them to realize what was under their fucking noses!!!!_

There was a slight cough behind him and Marcus sharply turned his head around to look at Spencer, suppressing the rage and disgust he felt for Spencer from showing on his face.

"How is your own research going, if I may ask?" Spencer asked with his toneless voice, the voice of a man who had no emotions at all.

Marcus took a few seconds to calm himself. "I am making great progress," he simply informed the head of Umbrella.

Spencer opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small tape-recorder, holding it up in his left hand and pushed the 'play' button with his thumb.

There was the brief sound of a phone ringing, the rings going on for several seconds before there was the sound of someone picking up the phone.

"State request," the voice of the Red Queen asked.

"Get me the specimen-holding facility in Latham," a male voice ordered harshly.

The phone went through a series of beeps and whistles before someone answered.

"Hello. Please state request," a female voice answered.

"I need more specimens!! You are taking too long!! My work must be finished. Get me the specimens now!!" the man practically yelled.

Marcus couldn't help but widen his eyes a little in shock and his forehead started to sweat. The voice that was screaming and yelling for patients was him.

"Dr Marcus, you have made several requests for specimens in the last week alone and we sent you several specimens to keep your work going-"

"But I need more!" Marcus interrupted. "My work is progressing so fast that the amount of specimens you sent me are not enough. I need you to send some more immediately!!"

"Doctor Marcus, we can't simply keep supplying you with specimens every time you call, there are other laboratories, other staff that need supplying. I am sorry but I-" the woman started to explain.

"Don't give me excuses!! I won't let my work be ruined by ignorant minds such as yours!! Just get me the specimens! Unless you are willing to get yourself out of work with a final measly pay-check!" Marcus bellowed.

"Y-yes sir. I-I...I'll...get them there...right away," the woman replied, her voice turning small and frightened, a rabbit having been scared by a wild dog.

Then the phone hang up and Spencer stopped the tape, his cold eyes not leaving Marcus' face as he put the tape recorder away and closed the drawer. Once the drawer was shut with a loud thump, he stood up and leaned forward on his desk, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Marcus.

"Marcus, I understand and appreciate the amount of time and effort you put into the work on the Progenitor for our corporation. But you are failing to remember that we can't cater to your needs and obey your every whim. We all work on the Progenitor, every scientist we employ, not just you, which means we can't only help you. If this happens again, then I shall have you...removed from your position and your work handed over to someone better." Spencer smiled viciously. "Understood?"

Marcus was now breaking out in a full sweat and he could only nod in shock at that statement. He knew that Spencer was a man who always followed up on his threats and would follow them through to the fullest extent. So Marcus now had to be extremely cautious in working with the employees of the corporation and keeping his work safe, because Spencer would be keeping a close eye on him to make sure nothing like this happened again. After that little incident over the phone, it was clear that Marcus was under constant surveillance from Spencer, ever since he had started working the Progenitor.

_And he will try to see what he can find out about my work._

True enough, Spencer wanted to know more about the work Marcus had been performing for over a decade, constantly asking him about it over the years that Umbrella was formed and they were associates, saying it was for the corporation to stay more powerful in wealth, diplomacy and industry that others. Marcus hated the idea of seeing the Progenitor as a money-spinning tool for a bunch of bureaucrats, but wouldn't say it out loud and had kept up with his updates as best as he could to satisfy Spencer and the board, keeping it as detailed as possible without giving too much away and delivering it as soon as he could.

He had hoped that they were satisfied enough to leave him alone for him to continue working, so long as he sent more updates about his work to them. Now that Spencer was becoming more suspicious thanks to that incident, he would most likely send his spies to try and steal the work, meaning that there were more precautions to take if Marcus was to keep it safe from him.

"May I leave now?" he asked timidly. Spencer nodded slowly.

Marcus opened the door and hurried out to the heliport in the Spencer Estate, wanting nothing more than to escape the home of the man he had grown to despise and fear with every fibre of his being. He felt Spencer's eyes observing his every move through the walls and windows, behind the closed doors, those cold blue eyes staring at him to look for any sign of treachery and any hint of what his work was really about.

Marcus hurried through the mansion as fast as he could, shoving people out of his way as he sprinted to the helicopter parked on the heliport, waiting for him to take him back to the laboratories under the training facility so he could work on his leeches.

He was now racing against the clock and had to finish his work as soon as he could. Because Spencer was the man controlling the hands...

Spencer watched the door swing shut and sat back in his chair, tapping his fingers on his desk in a short rhythm. He crushed his cigar into the ashtray on his desk and read the forms on the two candidates that Marcus wished promoted to work on the Progenitor. From what he was reading here, he could see that they had the skills and intelligence to work on the Progenitor, but he knew not to judge anyone on someone else's opinion because that was mostly misleading, especially if the person who gave the opinion couldn't read people. Spencer had that uncanny attribute and he had used it well throughout his years of Umbrella, making sure that he understood how his employees thought and what they wanted out of their work, so he could manipulate their aims to coincide with his.

_If Birkin and Wesker can prove themselves to me, maybe they can replace Marcus._

Spencer smiled a little at that statement before his grin vanished and was replaced by a scowl. That sounded like a good idea, since Marcus was becoming increasingly difficult to control and may soon have to be...retired ahead of schedule. The rest of the board were satisfied with Marcus' updates, but Spencer and Henri noticed that Marcus, though making his reports detailed, had began to get repetitive over and over again, changing a few words in some places to make it look different.

_Be careful James. Your bag is splitting and your marbles are very fragile._

From Marcus' outburst on the tape and the way that he had looked when Spencer saw him had confirmed his suspicions that had been with him ever since he let James work on the Mother Virus to begin with. James Marcus, PhD in Biology and Biochemistry, was teetering on the brink of insanity, waiting for something to throw him over. And if Marcus were to take that step, then he may start behaving irrationally and cause certain events that would expose or damage Umbrella.

_It seems he needs to have a professional to watch him._

Spencer picked up the phone on his desk and dialled a code-number for a communications facility that Umbrella controlled on the East Coast. Umbrella had brought several high-tech, privately-owned communications facilities around the world, in order to relay calls, faxes and email messages to all of Umbrella's facilities worldwide, so that no one could monitor their communiques between each other. Each and every one of the facilities was run by the 'Umbrella Twin Queens'.

The phone rang twelve times before it was answered. It was common that their calls took so long to be answered, as basically every facility they owned used all the communication relay stations.

"State request please," the Red Queen's voice announced.

"Connect me to the Caucasus facility in Russia," he commanded.

The phone emitted a series of beeps and whistles before it was answered on the other end.

"This is Colonel Vladimir. What is your business?" Sergei asked.

"Sergei, my old friend. It's me, Oswell."

There was a slight chuckle on the other end. "Comrade Spencer. What do you wish of your humble servant?"

Spencer pulled out another cigar and lit it up, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. "I want some more of our Monitor agents to watch over Dr Marcus. Who, in your opinion, is the best agent in Monitor?"

"I have my choice already made and I shall send him to you post-haste. His name is Nicholai Ginovaef, the son of one of my most trusted former soldiers. He has the skills we need and is loyal in every possible way to us, so we have no worries about him betraying us. He is a trained proffesional and he reports only to me or you. Don't worry comrade, Nicholai will keep his watchful eyes on Marcus," Sergei explained.

Spencer nodded. "Well, thank you. We need to keep Marcus under control, he is becoming too reckless and obsessed with his work. We need to know what he is up to from now on. Hopefully Nicholai and the other agents will keep out of his way. God knows what Marcus would do to them," Spencer conveyed to Sergei.

If there was one thing about going other the brink of insanity, which Marcus would soon fall over, the sufferers would do whatever depraved matter they saw fit to keep the one object that their insanity revolves around safe. So all the agents would have to tread carefully, in case Marcus started getting any ideas that involved bloodshed.

Spencer said goodbye to Sergei and hung up the phone, leaning further back in his chair and closing his weary eyes. The stress of Marcus' growing insanity and working on the board was getting to him, and he needed to get some rest. As his mind wandered off to a peaceful, dreamless slumber, he hoped that these problems would soon sort themselves out. The last thing they needed was more problems than what they originally had, if Umbrella's true work was to be kept a secret.

Because if anyone found out, they were, to put it plainly, royally screwed...

Two days later. The laboratories underneath the training facility that the other staff worked in were silent yet occupied, as the scientists were working hard at their lab tables, looking through microscopes, dissecting animals, writing notes and watching DNA tests being run on the computers. No one spoke a single word that wasn't work-related to each other and remained focused on the research they were performing, very aware that it wasn't wise to become distracted from their work and receive the scorning of Dr Marcus, especially as his current state of mind had worsened.

From what Wesker could tell, by looking around the labs, the staff were like frightened children in a house with an abusing parent. They kept up the façade that they were uncaring towards being watched from the windows, yet Wesker could see the fear towards Marcus drilling holes in their façade, a worm chewing through an apple.

They hadn't even looked up, let alone offer a greeting, to Marcus, Birkin or Wesker, afraid that doing so might anger Marcus. The three men just watched the other staff work, making no attempt to speak with each other or the staff before they headed down the hall, the two teenagers walking behind Marcus.

"You both have received good praise from the entire faculty here in this facility," Marcus stated, not taking a glance at them over his shoulder. "I have decided that you should help in our work."

Wesker straightened his sunglasses and looked over at Birkin, seeing his face stuck in an expression of intense curiosity and impatience. He looked incredibly desperate to see what Umbrella was really up to besides pharmaceuticals, as he and Wesker had continually discussed about it with each other during their work in the secondary labs.

Wesker knew that it was most definitely something big as he had noticed several animal cages being taken to the ruined church along with large crates of supplies and several other scientists, all of them heading to an elevator on the side of the church. Whatever it was, Umbrella was spending a lot of money to get the animals, technology and staff they needed to continue this mysterious work.

Wesker had his suspicions about what it could be, but generally kept them to himself for his safety and the safety of his plans with Umbrella. He had joined Umbrella as it was a large pharmaceutical company to work on his ultimate occupational talent, science, until he found something that was better than Umbrella. And since this 'work' that Marcus had been keeping secret along with the higher-ups was the most important of their research in the corporation, Wesker thought that it would be the best thing he could devote his intellect to for the time being.

He knew that the higher-ups would have to be involved in this because if Marcus himself was doing it solo, then he would be dead, as large and reputable corporations such as Umbrella could get away with it. So that meant that Wesker had to feign dumb ignorance on the work, as did Birkin, if they wanted to have their heads remain on their necks. But now, they were going to find out what this research was and how they were to work on it.

"What have you discovered that has to be kept secret from the public and all the trainees?" Birkin asked, quickening his pace to walk side-by-side with Marcus.

"We have discovered the greatest breakthrough in science, something so powerful and unique, that it can change the human race forever," Marcus said, his voice full of glee.

Wesker caught up with Birkin and Marcus, noticing the way Marcus' eyes wandered off to see nothing at all and how he continued walking, yet unaware of his actions until Birkin called him out of his daydream. It seemed that he was becoming more and more obsessed with what this work was and how he was working on it, barely noticing or caring for the world around him.

_It wouldn't surprise me if he soon reached the brink of insanity and fell off._

They soon came to a room marked 'Chemical and Viral Storage', a room filled with shelves of labelled bottles, filled with different colour liquids, lining the walls. A computer console sat in the middle of the room with a temperature gauge at -12C on the screen. Marcus walked up to the console and tapped in a few keys, causing two shelves to move aside at the far wall, revealing a hidden room, pitched in dark shadows. Marcus gestured for them to follow him and flipped on a light in the room to show a large glass box supported on a metal frame, the front panel opening to release cold, steamy mist into the room, obscuring the objects inside. Wesker and Birkin stepped forward to see better as Marcus stood behind them with his arms crossed.

"This, my friends, is the pride and joy of Umbrella. Lord Spencer, Lord Ashford and myself made this miracle of modern science months before the corporation was founded. It is the greatest creation in viral weaponry and genetic research to exist in this universe, the one thing that can change every living species into a monstrous weapon of war. This, my young students, is the Progenitor Virus," Marcus announced as if starring in a Shakespeare play.

The mist cleared and several small lights lit up the box to reveal several small vials of a cyan-blue liquid, the glass flushed over with steam. Wesker and Birkin took a step forward to catch a better look at the miracle of modern science, drawn to it as if its inner powers were the ancient, hypnotic songs of the Sirens.

"If it is a virus, are we safe in here?" Birkin asked, concern edged in his voice.

"Don't worry about it contaminating the air. We pump the air with antibiotics and disinfectants every minute so there is no worry about it infecting via airborne, as the airborne only lasts for 5-10 minutes," Marcus explained.

Wesker looked at it closer, at the sloshing liquid behind the frosted glass. "What does it do when it infects a host?" he asked.

"It infects the host mainly through fluids being transmitted into the bloodstream. Basically sweat, blood, saliva and mucus carries the virus from one host to another by entering open parts of the body, such as the eyes, ears, nose, mouth but mainly through open wounds. It then passes through the membranes of every cell it comes in contact with and infects the nucleus. Once merged with the nucleus, it undergoes a very violent and uncontrolled cellular change through the mutation of the host's genes. In non-mammalian species, it causes increased aggressiveness and rapid growth. However, in mammalian creatures, it causes the same symptoms along with other various new attributes," Marcus explained.

"Which are?" Wesker pressed.

"It kills the host," Marcus simply stated.

Birkin's eyes widened. "How can it do that?" he asked.

"As the mutations occur, it weakens the host and kills them. Since the actions of viruses is to kill healthy tissue, the Progenitor does the same during the mutations because the host's body isn't capable of handling the mutations in its genetic code and thus it dies. But, the Progenitor also has a regenerative quality in its structure, giving the cells an amazing healing power," Marcus explained.

Behind his sunglasses, Wesker's eyes widened slightly. "If the Progenitor can regenerate the cells it kills, then that means..." he trailed off, finding himself unable to believe it.

Marcus nodded. "Yes, the Progenitor kills the host but revives it through the cells it has infected. It brings the host back from the dead," he finished, closing the panel on the glass box, sealing away the samples. Wesker and Birkin were dumbfounded at what they had been told about this mould-breaking virus that Umbrella had made.

"Now, if you would follow me, I have some footage on the Progenitor that you should see. Follow me."

Marcus led them out of the room and sealed the room with the Progenitor in it. They headed back to the elevator again and went up to the top floor, heading out the doors to the left-hand side of the ruined church and walking towards the astronomy tower.

As they headed back to the training facility's main building, Wesker's thoughts ran wild with this new information having been revealed to him. Nothing close to this had come forth in Wesker's thoughts when he wondered about what Umbrella was hiding from everyone else. This virus was the most lethal thing he had ever known in his life and that he was to work on it was something even more astonishing to say the least.

_But why keep it? Why have a virus that goes against everything that a pharmaceutical company works for? What is its purpose?_

Then Wesker reflected at what Marcus had said when he presented it to them, how he said it was 'the greatest creation in viral weaponry' and that it could change any living creature into a machination of war. And, to Wesker, it could only mean one thing in what Umbrella was really doing.

"It's all in the endeavour of biological warfare. You, Spencer and the corporation are using the Progenitor as a weapon to wage wars," Wesker claimed.

Marcus abruptly stopped and turned to face Wesker, Birkin taking glances between the two. "Yes and no," Marcus simply said. "We intend to change the methods of biological warfare. We are trying to use the Progenitor as a way of achieving total power and profit over others on this planet. The Progenitor is a marvel to behold, its powers just waiting inside for us to release them, for us to control them," he explained, trailing off into another daydream.

Birkin cleared his throat to catch their attention. "How will you be able to use Progenitor-infected hosts as bio-weapons? What does the Progenitor do to them?" he asked.

Marcus continued walking towards the facility with the two teenagers close behind him. They walked through the halls of the facility, ignoring the staff and students that they passed, heading through the main entrance to the west wing. They walked through the halls until they came to a large conference room, a row of chairs sat in front of a projector screen and a large T.V in the corner, the projector itself at the far back of the room.

Marcus gestured to the seats. "Take a seat so you can see the T.V.," he said plainly.

Wesker and Birkin took a seat as Marcus walked over to a small cupboard next to the projector and pulled out several video cassettes.

Marcus slid the first one in and pushed the 'play' button, taking a few steps back so Wesker and Birkin could see the screen. The screen turned on and showed several scientists surrounding a glass box holding a common house plant. One of the scientists prepared a syringe filled with the Progenitor while others stood aside to take notes.

"As I said before the Progenitor is a powerful mutagen, capable of rewriting the host's genetic code to bestow on it new and powerful traits. And the traits differ between mammals and non-mammals, for reasons we are yet to determine. Anyway, this was our first experiment on plant-life," he explained.

The scientist stuck the needle in the plant and pushed down on the plunger, sending the Progenitor inside the plant's body. Wesker leaned forward expectantly while Birkin rubbed his hands together nervously. If what they were told about the Progenitor was true, then that plant was going to become a monster. Strangely though, Wesker found he wasn't scared or disgusted in the least, he was anxious to see what was going to happen, to see what this miracle-disease could do to living things. Since Wesker was going to be working on it with Birkin and the other chosen candidates, he might as well know as much about it as he could from the cassettes.

Marcus pulled a remote from his pocket and pushed fast-forward, the images blurring by quickly. He soon pressed play on the video again and Wesker couldn't believe what he saw on the screen.

The plant had changed all together from its original, simple, boring shape to something more terrifying. The box was bigger than before and the pot the plant was in had broken apart with more soil having to be put in to help the plant's growth because the plant had changed tremendously.

It had grown considerably in size, growing to become as tall as a small child and its body had become as wide as Wesker's arms. The petals on the tip of the stem had opened up to form a mouth-like orifice, with jagged teeth around the rim and an acidic-substance dripping down its mouth to land on the soil beneath it. Its roots had become long- ropey tentacles that swayed around its lower section amongst the soil, occasionly jabbing at the glass. Its leaves had grown larger and developed several appendages around the edges, which had curled inwards and sharpened to what looked like claws.

_Amazing. Simply amazing._

Wesker looked over at Birkin to see his face masked in an expression of sheer horror and taking in deep, shuddering breaths. It seemed that he had yet to comprehend what it was he was seeing in front of him. Wesker found he couldn't blame him, as there was nothing like this anywhere else in the world.

"How long does it take for the Progenitor to cause the mutations?" Birkin asked, his voice pooling over with the horror he was feeling right now.

"Do you see the time on the screen?" Marcus responded.

They both glanced at the screen and nodded. The timer read 56:18:39.

"That is the time that the Progenitor took to mutate the plant to the final stage. It takes over two days for the virus to fully infect a host. After that, we don't know when the further stages of mutations begin, but after another 10-20 hours of infection, the virus goes inert and stops," Marcus informed them.

"What about with other species or families of creatures? What does the Progenitor do to them?" Wesker asked, glancing up at Marcus.

Marcus ejected the cassette from the VCR and replaced it with another one, hitting the 'play' button. The screen displayed another glass box surrounded by scientists, one readying to inject the Progenitor into the specimen, which was now a common household spider.

"This was our first experiment with insects. See the spider before any infection. Now, here is it after full mutations."

Marcus fast forwarded to the end of the tape and again, it was a horrific sight. The spider was now the size of a small car, its eyes the size of ping-pong balls glinting with an insanely ravenous hunger, its legs as longs a fire-hoses and thick as table legs, keeping it suspended above the floor as the web-spinner on its abdomen began to make its nest, its fangs dripping with a slimy-greenish drool.

The timer at the bottom of the screen read 51:24:01.

Marcus ejected the tape and turned to face Wesker and Birkin. "As you saw, the Progenitor works the same with plants, fish, amphibians, reptiles and insects. Increased size and rage," he stated, heading over to get another tape.

Wesker sat there in silence, thinking over everything about the Progenitor. So far, everything about this miracle disease was true, at least everything that Marcus had told them. It was an incredible yet horrific creation, a marvellous yet monstrous weapon and if it could do just that with uncontrolled mutations in living creatures.

_If we control the mutations, the possibilities of what it could create are unlimited._

No wonder Umbrella kept it secret from everyone, even their own employees until they were certain they could be trusted. This microbiological astonishment could turn the meaning of viral and biological warfare into something entirely different. Whereas before, you just dropped a disease on a population and let it run rampant. But with the Progenitor, you could create an army, a battalion, a legion of superhuman-creatures that had the potential to destroy civilisations in one attack.

_Careful. Remember, getting too attached to something, especially the Progenitor, is a fatal mistake._

But nothing had changed about him because of one miracle of modern science, Wesker still stuck with his sense of self-preservation and advancement. If you became too enthralled with the potential of the Progenitor, you could end up dead or mad. Marcus was certainly heading down that road, his growing insanity wafting off of him like a tidal wave of festering sewage and soon enough, he may end up taking any specimen he deemed worthy to work on. That would be his death sentence.

Although they had yet to meet face-to-face, Wesker knew that Spencer was a megalomaniac, a man who wanted to keep himself on the throne of power and would annihilate anyone who threatened him. He had the power and money to do so, and that would make him just as mad as Marcus, so he wouldn't care about any repercussions from doing such an act. Wesker knew, that despite he wanted to keep himself in a position of power throughout his life, he mustn't get too attached to the power he aspired to gain.

That was another road to madness and if he went mad, he would screw up and get himself killed.

_I prefer to avoid such a turn._

But back to the situation at hand, he still needed one thing to confirm everything he had heard about the Progenitor.

"May we see a human experiment?" he asked aloud, startling both Marcus and Birkin.

Birkin stared at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. Marcus stood stunned for a few moments before he picked up a new cassette and stuck it in, pressing play.

"As I explained before, with mammals, the Progenitor-caused mutations kills the host but brings it back using the regeneratative quality it has. The same applies to humans and, strangely enough, to birds. This man had suffered an accident, a Progenitor sample broke and he was infected via airborne," Marcus explained, forwarding the tape slightly.

The screen displayed the image of a man lying on a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV machine, monitoring his heartbeat and breathing rate. He was apparently scratching himself. The timer read 04:12:51.

"He is suffering from the first stage of infection. He has developed a rash-like reaction due to the Progenitor infecting and mutating his skin cells," Marcus explained.

He forwarded the tape again. The man was still scratching himself, but he was drenched in sweat, his eyes seeming to fill over with a milky-white and he was mumbling incoherently. The timer read 22:19:34.

"The infection is spreading around his body, reaching second stage. The rash is worse as his whole skin is mutating. He has broken out in a fever due to mutations of his brain cells, causing blurred vision and loss of speech," Marcus explained, hitting fast-forward again.

The next image was the man lying down on his bed with a scientist standing at his bedside. The man looked incredibly ill, the bed completely soaked in his sweat, his breathing reduced to wheezing gasps and the monitor showed his heartbeat was slower. The scientist held up the man's arm and tried bending it, having trouble getting the joint to move as if his bones and muscles were turning into concrete. The timer was 34:33:59.

"The infection has reached the third stage. His lungs and heart cells are mutating, causing respiratory and circulatory failure. Rigor mortis had developed due to mutations in his muscle cells," Marcus informed them.

He hit fast-forward and the scene changed to the man slumped in his bed, his monitor giving the flat-line tone, his chest neither rising nor falling in breathing. The timer was 49:45:16.

"The final stage of infection. The man has slipped into a catatonic state and died. But," Marcus exclaimed, pointing at the screen for them to watch and Wesker himself took in a sharp gasp of breath.

The man was sitting up in bed, moaning in hunger. The monitor showed his heartbeat and breathing rate had returned to normal. His eyes were a dead milky-white and his skin a deathly pale.

Birkin began to babble in panic and Wesker sat back in his chair, eyes glued to the screen. The man had died from the infection and came back to life from the mutations. Clinically, he was dead, despite what the IV machine was saying as both Wesker and Birkin had seen it. Yet he was getting up, walking towards the camera on shambling footsteps, his hands outstretched to the man behind the camera, his dead-glazed eyes focused towards the camera.

Only one word could describe the man right now. Something that Wesker himself had found ridiculous and Birkin most likely would have thought the same thing. As Wesker had been scientist, he was meant to focus on the facts that were in reality, that were proven, not to focus on something that was a piece of fictional crap. But what other word could one use describe the man's condition? What other word could someone call a man who looked and acted alive, but was really dead?

What other word could one use besides 'zombie'?

Marcus took out the tape and turned off the T.V., turning to the teenage scientists. "I take it you understand what this means?" he asked.

Wesker didn't know what to think, except that his plans were now drastically altered by this new promotion with working on the Progenitor. And for better or worse, not even he had no idea of knowing...

**Hope you enjoyed this and that I haven't lost my talent in writing.**

**Sorry if the update was a bit late. Exams coming up.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. Really appreciate it.**

**And stay tuned for chapter 22!!**


	22. Chapter 22

Twenty Two

Ever since Birkin had first seen the Progenitor and the proof of what it was capable of, it turned his entire ideology and knowledge of science upside-down and inside-out. With science, it was all complicated mathematical equations that he could interpret in seconds, reactions that excelled in success or declined in failure with him as the chronicler on what had happened and the man who declared this had happened, backing his word up with proof that he was correct. It was all a simple process of experimentation, observation, analysis and evaluation.

_But the one common knowledge that we all agreed on without reluctance, arguments or experimentation to proof it was true, was that the dead stayed dead._

But after Marcus had shown him what the Progenitor was, what it was capable of doing and what it may become, he found himself stunned and his entire knowledge shattered so it could be replaced by what he saw in the deadly virus that Umbrella had made.

It changed the very way that anyone had thought on what genetics were, how they worked and what they could do with them. It gave them radical, mould-breaking and unconventional new knowledge that no one had the potential of understanding or discovering without learning first hand on what it could do. It meant that anyone could take any living organism and break apart then rebuild their DNA structure in any way they saw fit, like an infant child would do to a stack of building blocks. It was the chance that man would ever get of being able to play God.

But Birkin was not in it just to experiment on something so revolutionary or splice up ordinary creatures just so he could watch how they could mutate into horrid monsters for war, in which, Marcus had made clear about it, was Umbrella's real aspiration with the Progenitor.

His real reasons were to create something that would become the greatest discovery on the face of the earth, something that he himself could get all the credit for and fully claim that it was his work, his genius that created it. He aspired to leave his mark in history that, to show the world that he was a certifiable genius, with his greatest achievement being the evidence to support his intellect. He found no such revelation to work on outside of Umbrella because everything else that was known in this world was now as common in the world as was the cold or the flu. Everyone knew how each of these diseases worked, everyone knew how to fight it, prevent it or cure it, leaving their mark on the work that had been performed on each of the diseases.

But with the Progenitor, he could create something incredible, something tremendous in every possible way that nothing could be able to outshine or upstage it. What he wanted was to create the ultimate masterpiece from using every bit of his intellect.

But right now, he had to stick with what he had, which was still incredible and could only better. He and Wesker had been assigned as the Head Researchers at the labs under the church, working day and night to catalogue every aspect of the Progenitor's mutagen properties, to see how it performed under every circumstance. They experimented to see how it mutated the hosts when they were missing a limb, a bone or an organ, to see how it adapted to the missing parts of the host's body.

Or how the Progenitor would work under much harsher conditions, such as sub-zero or over-100C temperatures, to see if its rate of infection was affected by the conditions of the environment it was in. That was mainly what their work consisted off and both of them worked extremely together, always discussing and debating over everything they had worked on, making sure that it all went smoothly and that they knew what to expect from the experiments should things go wrong.

But how they worked and cooperated with the other scientists was an entirely different matter. Wesker preferred to handle everyone fairly, treating them with respect and assigning them to a task that they were good at, keeping everything running efficiently and strictly, only putting people down when they made significant errors. As he was better at working with other people, he handled everything with professionalism, always ensuring that he knew their strengths and weaknesses, and how he could use them to continue the research. He was basically what people would call firm but fair.

Birkin on the other hand, handled them much more stricter and ruthlessly, going off at the slightest mistake, forcing other scientists to their breaking points with his hopeless perfectionist attitude. He was openly hostile towards others when they failed to work well on the experiments and he openly vented his disapproval of everyone of them working with him. He showed nothing to the other scientists except contempt, as he was working on a higher level than they were and was disapproving of their lack in understanding the importance of the work.

But despite Birkin's personality and the constant complaints against him, neither Spencer nor Marcus had never made a move against him, though Birkin had never seen any evidence that Spencer was issuing orders in the labs. He most likely thought that it was because both Marcus and Spencer knew what a fine candidate he was and how they couldn't afford to forsake him. The only other possibility that Birkin could think off was that Wesker was making amends with the higher-ups on Birkin's behalf to keep him on the work. Why that would be, Birkin didn't know or care. All that mattered to him was to continue working.

It was September 19th, in the middle of a long work-day, currently lunch-break for the staff. The other staff were all in the cafeteria, stuffing down food and drinking coffee to keepup their energy for the work, wasting time chatting about meaningless rubbish as always. Wesker and Birkin, however, were inside the main laboratory discussing over the work that they had done over the days they had started working on the Progenitor.

"It is simply amazing. Simply amazing, that's all there is to describe it," Birkin stated to Wesker, sitting at the lab table with his cup of coffee in his hand.

Wesker shook his head slightly, hands folded behind his back, pacing back and forth in front of Birkin. "Though they are still the same effects all throughout each condition. Non-mammals, increased growth and aggressiveness. Mammals, increased growth and aggressiveness, plus that undead factor. The only difference is that at sub-zero temperatures, the cells work slower. And at above 100C temperatures, they work a lot faster," Wesker explained.

Birkin sighed a bit at that fact, knowing that what Wesker was saying was true. The Progenitor itself didn't accomplish much when infecting other hosts; they had already catalogued and recorded all the variations in mutations that the Progenitor caused. And since all the mutations were the same, that meant that the killing-off brain cells was common in infection, meaning that the hosts had no intelligence whatsoever to obey orders, making them poor bio-weapons.

"At least we have the Progenitor itself. That is a very efficient bio-weapon on its own as it kills every living thing it comes in contact with," Birkin said, mostly to reassure himself rather than Wesker.

"The Progenitor isn't a good bio-weapon," Wesker exclaimed, stopping his pacing to look at Birkin.

Birkin sat there stunned by Wesker's words, unable to speak because of the disbelief of what Wesker was saying. Birkin knew that Wesker must have realised what the Progenitor was when he first witnessed its properties in action, saw what it did and how it affected other lifeforms it came in contact with. He couldn't possibly be criticising the Progenitor based on one simple error he had found in one experiment.

_He can't be serious. This is the greatest scientific discovery ever! He can not think it is flawed._

"It has one weakness that can immediately kill it. We did an experiment to see how well an airborne infection mutates a host under direct sunlight," Wesker explained, seeing the disbelief on Birkin's face, "We released the infection into the area to infect the host, but nothing happened. We found no trace of the infection anywhere in the zone and those traces that we did find were dead Progenitor cells. We performed several more experiments to see if it was just a fluke, but all results ended the same. The Progenitor was killed upon being released into the air."

Birkin processed what Wesker had said and could find only one answer to why direct sunlight had killed the Progenitor. "The UV radiation must have destroyed the cells in the virus. It's photo-sensitive," he stated.

Wesker nodded slightly in response.

Birkin sighed and put his head in his hands. Even a perfection such as the Progenitor has flaws, as a scientist he should have been aware that there is always a flaw in everything on the planet. But this revelation struck him harder than anything else. The Progenitor was the greatest scientific discovery ever made, having the ability to take apart a DNA structure from any living organism and re-combine it to make whatever they would want. It could turn an ordinary animal into a hideous monster and an common man into a relentless zombie.

But this photo-sensitivity now had relatively destroyed its chances of being a bio-weapon and its mutational properties weren't sufficient to make bio-weapons. Birkin didn't know why Spencer and Umbrella wanted to create bio-weapons, though the only reason he could see was to sell them to military forces for them to fight in wars, but the Progenitor destroyed one thing that Umbrella needed in their bio-weapons. It killed brain cells and only regenerated them enough for the host to do all it was capable of before it had died, but not enough for them to obey orders. Thus, they were made uncontrollable and inefficient as bio-weapons.

And now, they had just found out that the Progenitor itself wasn't an effective bio-weapon. Because of this photo-sensitivity, it could only be used during conditions that had no occurring sunlight, which meant it could only be used at night. No wonder that the training facility was constantly packed with fresh candidates, as Umbrella really needed to improve the Progenitor if they wanted to continue their work on bio-weaponry. Having a bio-weapon that could only be used night and, despite what the mutations were, only created vicious, blood-thirsty and uncontrollable monsters was not really a good enough product to sell to anyone.

Suddenly, a new thought dawned on Birkin. "If the Progenitor can be killed by direct sunlight, can't the hosts be killed that way as well?" he asked.

Wesker shook his head. "Not all of them. Only those that have a very thin outer-skin, such as snakes, slugs, leeches, specific types of fish and non-desert plants. They are the only creatures that are susceptible to the UV radiation in sunlight," Wesker informed him.

Birkin took another sip of his coffee. "I suppose that the Progenitor is useless for now," Birkin admitted glumly.

"Don't be too sure, William," Wesker retorted.

Birkin stared at Wesker. His calm and collected friend was obviously aware of something new that Umbrella wasn't. Though that wasn't really a surprise, since nothing really escaped Wesker's notice. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Wesker returned Birkin's stare. "Marcus has found something," he simply stated.

Birkin's eyes widened slightly but suppressed it quickly. Though Birkin wasn't good at reading people, he knew that something was up with Marcus, with his near-hostile behaviour to everyone around him for no apparent reason, his far-away dreaming attitude and lack of response to anything put in front of him. He seemed distracted in his thoughts and agitated that he was away from his lab, as if he was afraid of missing something important

_He has obviously found out something about the Progenitor, something to make it more powerful._

"What do you think it is then?" he asked back, leaning towards Wesker.

Wesker looked around briefly, to make sure they were alone before leaning closer to Birkin. "I am not sure as of yet. Whatever it is, it is important as he is bringing in more animals and specimens than ever. All of them sent to his lab, none coming here. And I have been receiving complaints from Spencer's secretary, about how Spencer believes that Marcus is behaving too irrationally," he explained, his voice low to prevent anyone from overhearing.

"Why complain to you instead of to Marcus?"

Wesker shrugged his shoulders. "Obviously he isn't replying to them. Which means he doesn't want anyone to know about it. So," he headed towards the door, "I think I will have a look around Marcus' lab to see what he has been up to."

Birkin immediately rose to the feet and stared at Wesker's back in shock. "You can't be serious! What if he finds out? You'll be getting yourself in trouble. And what about our partnership? We are in this together. You have to stay and continue our work, if we are to keep Spencer, Marcus and the higher-ups off our backs," he pleaded, walking up to Wesker and grasping his shoulder.

Wesker brushed his hand away and glanced at him for a few seconds behind his sunglasses before turning back to the door. "Don't worry. I shall plant a bug in his lab, to record what he is working on and retrieve it at a later time," he informed Birkin, taking a few steps out the door. He turned back to Birkin. "You stay and continue our work, just for a while. So that, as you had claimed, the higher-ups are kept off our backs." He turned and looked back down the corridor. "Nothing shall go wrong. You needn't fear for anything," he simply stated before walking away.

Birkin clenched his fists in irritation at Wesker's attitude. He was ignoring the consequences of what he was doing and putting everything they worked for at risk. They had only just started on the Progenitor and he was going to throw it away on an abstract of thought he had came up with? He was basically throwing away all they had accomplished thus far and dragging them back to square one.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath.

Birkin had never been one to swear or curse with profanities. Despite his harsh temperament, he always managed to remain slightly calm so that he didn't start letting his mouth run wild with cursing. But he still cursed, yet only when he became extremely agitated, and this situation with Wesker playing 'lone-wolf' and putting their work at risk was certainly agitating to him. Birkin sighed in defeat and rubbed his forehead, trying to calm the growing headache. He knew that arguing with Wesker was pointless as the man always did things his way and followed no orders but his own. If he wanted to snoop around in Marcus' lab, he would do so, no matter who tried to persuade him not to.

_Well, I better carry on with the work while he is gone._

That thought was calming to him at least. He knew that Wesker was right, that they had to keep working to please Spencer if they wanted to stay in their positions and keep up their employment in Umbrella. Besides, although he knew the man for a short time, Birkin knew that Wesker would be fine, that he would be back soon enough. Wesker was always the planner, always the man who thought ahead and knew what he was doing before he did it. He had always had that role in everything he did and this bit with Marcus was just another plan he had formed up, maybe before he had even told Birkin about his theory, so he knew what he was doing and how he would do it. If anything, the only thing that Birkin had to worry about was getting behind in his work.

The bell went off and Birkin sighed in relief, downing his coffee in one sip. Lunch break was over, back to work. He gathered up all his things and headed over to his desk to start working as he heard the sounds of the other scientists coming to the laboratories. When all the scientists had arrived, he immediately assigned them a task and got back to work himself, feeling a lot less stressed now.

At least if Birkin was working, he wouldn't have to worry about anything else. Working on science was his one source of comfort in his life...

Meanwhile, farther in the laboratory complex under the treatment plant.

"Sample 543. Test results. Negative. No changes," the computer announced as the machine that it was hooked up to tested the many samples of Progenitor laid out in the racks before it.

The large syringe supported on the small crane of the machine hovered over one of the test-tubes and withdrew some of the colourful fluid, the fluid travelling through the plastic tube along the crane to the main part of the machine, where it was suspended in a small beaker, probed by various lights and lasers to be scanned.

"Sample 544. Test results. Negative. No changes."

"Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on!! Show me something anything, show what it can really become!!" Marcus begged the computer, clutching the screen with shaking hands and staring at it with bloodshot eyes. He had come so far in his work. For over ten years, he had come so far and now he just needed to know if there was anything that had happened, anything that he had accomplished from working to discover the Progenitor's true power. He wanted to know if he had unlocked it, unveiled its true power.

But the samples were all coming back negative. None of them showing any changes, none whatsoever in their genetic structure. And he knew that he had to finish it as soon as possible because Spencer would soon try to steal it from him. He was aggravating a wild tiger that had been starved for days and it would soon bite him for sustenance, so he had to finish his work as soon as possible before he could leave.

_It can't all have been for nothing!! I have come to far to discover nothing and earn no ounce of new knowledge!!_

Marcus turned around and walked up to the large glass tanks in his lab, staring at the leeches crawling inside as if they had the answers to his problems. He had been using them to help advance his research day after day after day, continuously breeding them down generation to generation so that their DNA bonded with the Progenitor and he could see if that it caused any changes in both infecter and infected. The Progenitor had fully bonded with the leeches and they had shown significant new mutations from it, but the Progenitor itself hadn't changed, it was still in its original form, even after the number of generations it had been passed through.

He had taken some samples from the newest generation and merged them with pure Progenitor Strain-A samples to see if that could cause any new changes for there were no changes to be seen in the leeches, aside from their increased size and hunger. The only change that Marcus could see was that they had developed what looked like an eye on their backs and their teeth had grown to the size of fruit knives, but such developments were common amongst the Progenitor-infected hosts so that was nothing new.

Marcus heaved a sigh and walked over to the desk, picking up his cup of coffee and taking a sip. It looked like he had wasted his time on this work. As much as he was loathed to admit it, there was nothing to do here so he as well might give it up. He might as well hand it over to Spencer and start a different project, work on a new angle of research with the Progenitor.

_Spencer can have it. 10 years and nothing has come. There is nothing more to do. I better just-_

"Sample 551. Test results. Positive. Molecular structure reconfigured," the computer interrupted his thoughts, causing him to nearly choke on his coffee from the shock.

He rushed up to the screen to see a DNA strand from the Progenitor zoomed in on, showing several parts of the strand being removed and replaced by parts from-

_Is this happening?_

-the infected-leeches' DNA, both parts merging together to form a completely new strand, the molecular structure displayed on the screen changing, the many letters that formed its amino-acid sequence rewriting themselves into something new.

He immediately began yanking out drawers, throwing them aside when he rummaged through them until he came to one with two syringes placed at the bottom. He took out them both, filling one with a small amount of fluid from the sample 551 and he filled the other with the blood of a Doberman in one of the specimen cages, the dog putting up a slight struggle before he got the blood.

He took a clean slide from the desk and applied a drop of both fluids to it, sticking the slide under a microscope that was placed inside a glass box, sealing it shut and looking on the computer placed in front of the box. Marcus watched with triumph-widened eyes as the cells of the new virus began infecting the blood-cells in an entirely different way, mutating them into something far stronger than the Progenitor could have done. Somehow, in some way and reason that Marcus couldn't explain, the Progenitor-bred leech DNA through all those generations that he had them reproduce over and over again, had merged and modified the Progenitor itself, turning it into a greater bio-weapon than ever before. This was what he wanted, this is what he had aspired to achieve. And now, after a decade of restless working and tireless efforts, he had accomplished his goals.

_I did it!! I did it!!!_

He spun around and faced the leeches that were preoccupied with the pointless task of sliding over the glass, his eyes swimming with joy and gratitude.

"We did it," he corrected his mirth-filled mind. He knew that without the leeches, that he wouldn't have been able to accomplish his goals and transform the Progenitor into a greater entity. Without them, he would have been mindlessly searching down twists and turns in his work that would have eventually led into dead-ends or losing his work to Spencer.

Marcus clenched his fists, anger swelling up inside him like a black tide. He knew that despite this breakthrough, he still had to worry about Spencer's greedy hands stealing what was rightfully his. This breakthrough was worth millions times more than what the Progenitor was worth and Spencer would desire to possess it as a method of increasing the size of the lump in his back pocket.

_That petty, ignorant tyrant! Despite what this could mean in science or true power, he would blindly associate it only with his corporation's finances._

This new virus was beyond anything that they had thought of with the Progenitor and could make even more powerful masterpieces of science. If this was applied fully to bio-weapons, the possibilities would become far greater than anyone, even himself, could fathom. They could promote further stages of mutations, new changes in a host's genetic structure so that new traits are bestowed on them, maybe even create new and greater bio-weapons

But Marcus had much bigger and better plans than making weapons with the new virus. For he knew that once a goal was completed, another was to be accomplished in its stead and so now he had a new objective to fulfil, an objective that he had been considering ever since working on the Progenitor. He had always known that whether or not he accomplished anything, Spencer was still lurking behind him, watching and waiting for a chance to steal his work so that he could become even more wealthy and powerful. He was always a threat and always reminded Marcus of that fact, always stating and proving who was really holding the power, really controlling what happened with the Progenitor and anything that it created. So Marcus knew that in order for him to keep his work to himself and remain safe from any attack on his person or attempt to steal his work, he needed to complete this new goal.

He had to create enough power for himself that he could take down Spencer.

_But first, we need to do more tests. On both the virus and the leeches, they have to be made ready if I am to remove Spencer from his throne._

Marcus finished testing all the samples to see if there were any more of the new virus, storing away all but one sample of the new virus, and sending the failures to be disposed of. He hurriedly began to prepare his equipment and took all the necessary DNA samples from the leeches for him to work on, downing his coffee quickly and making sure that the security measures he placed around the lab hadn't been disturbed, assuring that Spencer had sent any of his goons to steal his work. He now had no time at all to waste on anything else, as Spencer was coming closer and closer to stealing his work, reaching out with his greedy claws to scrape away Marcus like dirt and rake in anything that Marcus had accomplished for himself. He knew that he had to focus every piece of his time on his work, so he decided to ignore his duties in the training facility as they were meaningless in the long run; he could just have the assistant director take care of it, he would know what do because he had more experience in office politics than Marcus ever would have.

As Marcus had checked over everything and was satisfied that it was all in order, he suddenly came to a realization. He hadn't yet given a name to the new virus. He knew that names were pointless in context to his work, just an insignificant title to call an object by, but it would be easier to catalogue and record his work if he knew what he was working on. It helped make the procedures simpler so that they ran more smoothly and quickly, and Marcus knew he was running low on time so he needed everything to go as quicly as possible.

He thought over what to call the new virus for a few minutes, searching his mind for a title that truly suited in every way, before he came to one. He couldn't stop the humour-filled grin from forming on his lips when the name came to him. As this virus would be a devastating and powerful monster in the world of nature and men, he decided to call it after the nickname he had so neatly used to summarise the powerful and devastating monster that his associate, Lord Spencer, had become in Marcus' life. It was just too perfect for him to pass it up.

He decided to call it the Tyrant-Virus. Or, for shorter terms, the T-Virus...

**Thanks to everyone, especially Chaed, for reading, reviewing, favouriting (both me and my story) and offering support in writing this fic. I really appreciate it.**

**Anyway, hope you have enjoyed it this far and that you will all keep writing your own stories. **

**Stay tuned for chapter 23!**


	23. Chapter 23

Twenty Three

Days flowed by for the scientists on the Progenitor project. All their work consisted of the same continuous routine, injecting the Progenitor into a host, observing the mutations and recording down anything that was worth noting about. They asked for no promotions to higher-positions in the lab hierarchy or inquired about if there was any new work for them to be included in on. All in all, they generally resigned themselves to work on something that was low-level, repetitive and pointless in all endeavours for all they ended up with were constant dead-ends and very little information that they could use.

Wesker found this to be one of the only reasons he pitied the scientists that worked under him and Birkin. They had no common sense to know that their current work was getting them nowhere at all and no sense of self-advancement to ask for a promotion or transfer to some more profitable research, always obeying what the higher-ups ordered and working on whatever was given to them, no matter where it led them. Wesker occasionly wondered if Umbrella had hired them for their naivety rather than their intelligence, since all the other scientists did was act like sheep. One just had to point and they would go that way, following that road to either a new path or a dead-end.

And the more he thought about it, the more likely that it was true. The higher-ups wanted to use the Progenitor as a means to make Umbrella the best in the field of bio-weaponry development and to make them the most powerful individuals on the planet. But to accomplish this, they needed many scientists to work on the Progenitor in order to make suitable bio-weapons for them to sell to other countries. Yet, they didn't want any overly ambitious people aspiring to take their coveted positions and so would hire those that they could easily manipulate and control.

But if any man with vision, intelligence, ambitions and common sense, such as Wesker, should come under their employment in the Progenitor project, they had to make sure that these individuals could be trustworthy enough to not try and steal their power. It was the traits of having such power, to be paranoid about anyone who showed any sort of hint of being a threat to what they thought rightfully belonged to them. Although, Wesker never had the pleasure of meeting the Umbrella ruler, Lord Spencer, in person, he was pretty sure that such mental traits were evident in his psyche.

It certainly showed itself in Marcus, but his paranoia stemmed from a different source that was common only in people with a similar fanatical attraction to science. From what Wesker had been able to gather from his frequent searches in Marcus' lab, it seemed that he had developed a new kind of virus that surpassed the Progenitor in every form that could be known in such a micro-organism. And he was now focusing all his endeavors on finding a way to use the virus for some new-found goal, which would most likely stem from his growing paranoia that Spencer would steal his work. It was a policy in all large corporations, such as Umbrella, to take the product that one of their employees developed and distribute it amongst other suitable employees in order to maximize the potential it could make for their ultimate goal in their work.

Obviously, Marcus didn't agree with such a policy and was making sure that no one would come to steal his work from him, hence the security systems he had installed around his lab. The systems had consisted of several security cameras positioned inside and outside the lab, a key-pad lock on the door and several passwords installed on his computer. Though they were a slight hindrance, Wesker had managed to get past them easily, thanks to a helpful device he always carried with him; it was a small PDA that had the usual functions of calling and texting other people on the phone, but had a few extra adaptions, such as a program that allowed him to hack any electronic device he hooked it up to.

Once he had accomplished that, he connected another device, similar to an Ipod, up to Marcus' computer and programmed it to download all files and data on the computer once Marcus logged on. Once, it had finished downloading the data, a text message would be sent to his PDA informing of the completed download and he would sneak into Marcus' lab to get it.

It wasn't that hard to find the best time to sneak in the lab without Marcus catching him, thanks to what he had learned in his psychology degree. In the psychology of sleep, the human body needs at least 4-8 hours sleep in order to have enough energy to last through the day, but it all depended on the person himself. The sleeper could set their own 'body-clock' to sleep whenever they want and wake up whenever they want, yet they couldn't stop sleeping altogether because their own body would fight against as fatigue would set in.

And in the case of Marcus, he would most likely stay awake through the day until three in the morning and would then sleep for four hours before waking up to continue his work, while acquiring the rest of his daily energy from another source, such as sugar or caffeine. This gave Wesker a four-hour time-limit to sneak in the lab, set up his device to the computer then leave before Marcus would wake up. Afterwards, Wesker would catch up on some needed sleep, continue his work with Birkin, wait until three o'clock and sneak into Marcus lab, grab the Ipod, reset Marcus' security so he wouldn't suspect anything, and show what he had found to Birkin the next day.

_And I am quite sure he will adore this new piece of information I have gathered._

He stopped and briefly stuck his hand inside his lab coat's right pocket, feeling the cool, smooth metal of the storage device he carried with him. What Wesker had discovered from the data recently required from Marcus' computer, it would certainly please Birkin immensely. Hell if the higher-ups found out, they should would most likely shit themselves from the shock, whether this existed or that Marcus was hiding it from them. And when it came to what Marcus had created, who could blame them?

Marcus had managed to create a new virus, a virus that surpassed the Progenitor in every possible way, infection rate, mutation properties, method of infection, anything the Progenitor could do was outdone by this new bio-weapon. From what Wesker could gather, it seemed that Marcus had managed to create an even more powerful virus from a combination of a Progenitor-Alpha Strain sample and the DNA from a group of Progenitor-infected leeches, bred through several generations. Somehow, the combination of the two samples had utterly changed the Progenitor completely, reforming its DNA into something that was made from the Progenitor yet was in no way similar to its predecessor.

Birkin would most definitely approve of this new virus, especially if he were to get to work on it as well. This opened up a whole new range of possibilities for them to choose, a whole new venture to explore and they could create new, greater, stronger bio-weapons from this. Though Wesker would have to make sure that Birkin didn't over-react to this news because if he did, Marcus would find out they knew about it and they would be in a rather nasty end to their employment.

The data also explained about Marcus' new goal, his new goal in finalizing the T-Virus (the name he dubbed it with after a nickname he gave to Spencer) so that it gave him enough power for him to take down Spencer. It seemed his paranoia was no reaching over the deep end with him along for the ride; he was now getting desperate to try and keep his work in his possession by finding a way to develop it into a source of power that he could use to take down Spencer from his proverbial throne.

_That would be the signing of his death sentence._

If Wesker knew anything about Spencer, it was that he wasn't a man anyone should challenge for his power. He had, like Marcus with his T-Virus, had worked for a long time to get where he is in the world and to make the corporation Umbrella as it was today, with him at the helm. And he had enough power and money to eliminate anyone he saw as a threat to him easily, without any trace linking back to him.

Marcus was treading on very thin ice with this paranoia of his and Spencer would be waiting under it when it breaks if he found out what Marcus was up to. Though it didn't really matter to Wesker at the moment, he had something he needed to do.

Birkin was where he normally could be found, in the lab that he and Wesker shared, staring at something under a microscope, his left hand adjusting the microscope effortlessly and his right hand writing down notes on a piece of paper to his side, his eyes never leaving the microscope to check on what he was doing. A cup of coffee, Birkin's main source of nourishment sat on the desk next to his notes, droplets sliding down the side of the ceramic cup to stick under its base, staining the white surface with a light-chocolate brown ring.

He tapped lightly on the desk and Birkin jumped at the noise, knocking the notepaper on the floor and spilling his coffee all over the desk. Wesker noticed that his eyes were starting to form black circles under the lids and he was a lot more jumpy than last time.

"You best get some sleep. You may start looking like Marcus," he warned.

Birkin sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry. But it's been a bit hectic lately. Spencer is getting really aggravated by the lack of reports from Marcus and wants us to start updating more frequently. I've been up most of the night trying to get most of the reports done and sent off, so that Spencer doesn't start getting suspicious about what you're up to," Birkin explained, slumping down into his chair.

Wesker picked up the knocked-over coffee cup and examined it for a few seconds before putting it back on the table. "You shouldn't drink this stuff. It's making you paranoid," he said, leaning against the table and facing Birkin.

Birkin chuckled in response. "Maybe. But what have you found out?" he asked, standing up.

Wesker pointed to their office and tapped his ear, Birkin nodding to understood what he meant. They had to be careful because they had no idea of the room was bugged. Luckily, their office was soundproof and thoroughly checked for any listening devices or hidden cameras, so it was safe to talk there. They stepped inside and Birkin closed the blinds on the windows in the office, locking the door behind them whilst Wesker took out a laptop from a drawer in the desk and hooked up the Ipod, opening up the data and showing it to Birkin.

Once he had read through it all, Birkin's eyes widened and his face paled. "He's transformed the Progenitor," he stated, his voice filled with awe.

"No. This an all-together new virus, far better than the Progenitor. It is different to the Progenitor in every way and far more potent in our work," Wesker said simply, opening up another file, showing the DNA strand of the new virus.

Birkin reached out with a thin shaking hand and pointed at a part of the double-helix molecule on screen. "Look at the alignment of the bases and nucleotides. And the amino-acid chain. It's like he made it from scratch." He turned to look Wesker in the eye (as well as he could with the sunglasses that Wesker wore), a smile of wonder and mirth plastered on his face. "Can you imagine what it would be like to work on this? Imagine the accomplishments we could achieve with this virus," he asked, his voice becoming a whisper.

Wesker closed the files and shut down the laptop, closing the screen once it went black. " Maybe. But you must remember that Marcus has it and won't give it up to us willingly," he informed Birkin, putting the laptop in the drawer and closing it. "And you have to realize that Marcus is heading over the brink of insanity, and if he finds out we know about his work and that we are spying on him, then our hides are on the wall for display."

Birkin looked like he was about to get hit by a speeding car, his eyes wide in shock at the severe shattering that Wesker's words had brought upon his thoughts of working on the T-Virus.

He sighed and slumped his shoulders."You're right. But this is a great advancement in our work that Marcus has made. If we had it, we could make a whole new range of bio-weapons, with improved-"

"I quite agree with you," Wesker said, interrupting Birkin's rant. "But we must tread cautiously. If Marcus finds out we know about this, we are dead. And if Spencer finds out what we know, he may suspect us of being in league with Marcus and kill us himself. All that is needed is caution and patience, William, good things come to those who wait."

Birkin nodded slightly after a brief pause for him to think. "Alright. I'll wait, though I would sooner like to work on this new virus as soon as possible. Ignoring such a brilliant and incredible oppurtunity to work on something better doesn't agree with me." He yawned a long deep yawn and rubbed his eyes again. "But I could use some sleep first. Especially after that long night," he said.

Wesker sat behind the desk and continued to write on the reports that he had started days ago. "Very well. I'll make sure everything runs smoothly and get these reports finished then sent off soon. They will be no need to worry," Wesker assured his colleague.

"Yes, there is," Birkin responded, refusing to be placated. "What if Marcus finds out you have been sneaking around in his lab?"

Wesker thought over it a moment. "I made sure that there were no anomalies in his security system, so he won't find out about my visits. And I made sure there was no evidence to suggest I was there, so we are alright," he answered.

Birkin stood in the doorway for a few moments, thinking of what to say next but decided not to continue on the subject and left, heading for the dormitories. Wesker continued on the work at the laboratories, which were writing reports, supervising experiments, assigning the other scientists their tasks and performing his own experiments.

However, Birkin did have a right to worry. Because Wesker had made a slight mistake in his recent visit. With the security cameras, he had to hack into their software and make a tape-loop in the camera so that it wouldn't see him entering the lab. And when he left, he had to edit the entire tape, including the loop, to set the times with the current time he was leaving so that he made it seem that no one had visited the lab at all. But he had made a crucial mistake in his last visit. One that may be the push that would send Marcus over the brink and into the dark depths of insanity...

_Damn Spencer, damn his board and damn the Umbrella corporation. How dare they do this to me?_

Marcus clenched his fists tightly enough to cut open his hands and blood to flow through his fingers. He was barely resisting the urge to yell in anger at Spencer for what he had done. He had possibly discovered one of the greatest advancements in the Progenitor project and now, on November 15th, after nearly two months of research, his work had been seriously shunted. In response to his lack of updates concerning his work, they had decided that his supply of specimens would be greatly reduced, in that he was only permitted to conduct his experiments on rodents, such as mice and rats.

Which were totally useless for the T-Virus to work on. Rodents were far too simple, far too worthless, far too common and were already tested on dozens of times. All that happened with rodents, whether with the Progenitor or the T-Virus, was that they increased in growth and revived them after it killed them. And it didn't show anything that might make the T-Virus more powerful, to have it bestow on him enough power to take down Spencer, only showing what he already knew about the T-Virus that he had learned from his previous experiments; if he wanted his work, the work he accomplished throughout his entire adult life, to be kept safe from the hands of the man who ruled Umbrella, he had to remove him from his throne.

_But I need to work on something much more advanced than a rodent. I need to get better specimens if the virus is to be ready._

Though the only way to get his hands on better specimens was to send more updates about his work to Spencer, which meant to tell him about the existence of the T-Virus and if he found out the new virus, he would most definitely try to steal it from Marcus and hand it out to any dumb idiot that so much as kissed his ass only once. And that would be playing right in Spencer's trap. He was attempting to starve Marcus of his resources, forcing him to show them more about his work than the vague reports he usually sent them, in exchange to continue his work whilst sharing it with other members of Umbrella.

_I won't give in!! The work is mine!! I made it, I started it, I earned it IT BELONGS TO ME!!! There is still time, I have time, enough time to-_

Marcus walked up to the tanks with the leeches inside and put his hand to the glass, staring at them with admiration and awe. If anything had changed in his work over the past months on the T-Virus, it would had to be the leeches. He continued working on the leeches, despite the fact that he had got everything he needed from them, somehow feeling reluctant to discard them like the other specimens that he had worked on beforehand. It was as if something had changed in him as well as in them, something that formed a small, invisible connection between the two of them. He found himself always reffering back to them, comparing them with everything else he did, making the leeches a vital part of his work, the key that held all his work together, yet they had no relevance whatsoever to the work he currently did with the rodents.

As for the leeches, there was definitely something different about them. When he examined them, he found no changes in body structure, metabolism, DNA structure and virus infection, nothing to indicate a change. But something in their behaviour was...different. He would sometimes see them all huddled up against the glass, watching him for an unknown reason that only they knew, and they would occasionly call out to him, their soft cooing voices drawing his attention like the Sirens would draw sailors to their deaths. But each time he would approach them for an answer or a response, they ignored him and went about their business.

_Maybe they are aware of the truth. It's practically staring us all in the face. Our time is running out._

Marcus chuckled slightly and turned around, sitting on the floor, his back resting against the cold glass of the tank. Time. Time is precious, Time is fleeting. Time waits for no man. And he had misjudged his situation into thinking that he had all the time in the world to work on the Progenitor, when he should have been aware that Spencer had enough power to take away the time that he needed for his work.. Now, he barely had any left at all for his work and he would lose it all soon enough.

He shook his head and stood up, heading over to the samples sitting on the table, waiting to be used. He had come too far to 'throw in the towel' as it was said, made far too much progress to give in now and lose everything in his life that had been worth doing. Spencer may be controlling the hands of the clock, taking away what precious seconds he had left, but he had the greatest achievement in the project thus far in his possession and if used properly, Spencer would fall.

And he didn't need to worry about any of Spencer's goons getting it without being noticed. He had put up some security measures in the lab once the T-Virus had been discovered and he frequently checked them for any signs of someone was sneaking about, so he was ready for any surprises that were sent at him. All he had to worry about was getting some better specimens for his work to progress better.

After he set up his next experiment, a lab rat being placed in a containment tank and freshly injected with a blood-sample from one of the newly reproduced generation of T-infected leeches, he hooked up the IV monitor to it and logged into his computer to boot up the program, when a small message popped up on screen.

"There is an anomaly with your security system. Do you wish to check it? Y/N?" it read.

Marcus' eyes widened in shock and realization before he hit the Y key.

A video clip from one of the security cameras placed outside the door of his lab appeared on-screen, showing nothing but an empty hallway for several minutes. He continued to wait, watching the screen to see if anything occurred and still it showed nothing but the empty hallway, no one came down it towards his lab, no scientists, guards, technicians, cleaners or delivery men. Just an empty hallway.

He was about to close the video and get back to work when-

_Hold on!_

-he noticed something. The timer in the bottom-right corner of the screen that showed the time of day the camera was recording the image was doing something strange. The time the video started was around two o'clock and it finished near ten past three, but then the timer went back to two o'clock and played through again. And this could mean only one thing, that someone put the tape on a loop so that they could sneak into the labs and find anything of value.

Marcus started looking frantically around his lab for any signs of tampering, things being taken or moved out of place, anything that shouldn't be in one place or in the lab at all, any sign that someone had been here. Whoever it was had been trying to steal his work from him and would have gone by unnoticed if he hadn't made that one mistake in failing to reset the security systems back to normal. He looked over the whole lab twice and found no other evidence that someone had been in the lab; nothing had been taken or moved out place, everything left exactly as they were before. The person who had snuck into his lab was certainly thorough in cleaning up after himself, except for the camera image slip-up, and may be confident enough that he believed Marcus didn't know he'd gone there, meaning he would come back.

_I actually hope this person does. I would welcome any new 'assistance' in my work._

A sick smile spread across Marcus' face. He had decided back in October that if he was to make any progress, he would need human specimens to work on. Human DNA was much more easier to work with as it was more susceptible to genetic changes and infections, making the T-Virus much more effective in mutating the host and it will make any changes to the virus much more evident.

But right now, he needed to work with the best of what he had at the moment and that was the leeches. He immediately killed the rat and canceled the whole experiment, putting away all the samples and machines for another time, and set up a glass container with the lid off, placing a scalpel, syringe and tweezers beside it, along with a microscope and a clean slide. He then pulled a metal box out from under his bed and approached the tank, opening a hatch on the box and then a hatch on the tank, sliding the box through before closing the tank hatch.

He waited for one of the leeches to crawl into before he used a long wooden pole with a hook attachment to close the hatch and remove the box from the tank before sealing it. He took the leech over to the container and placed it inside, taking the scalpel and opening up a small wound for him to draw some of its blood with the syringe while he held open the wound with the tweezers. If he could find a way to amplify the T-Virus infection rate and mutational properties, he could probably finalize the leeches to become a powerful B.O.W. Since the leeches were currently his only successful experiment, he might as well see what he could come up with them; after all, since the T-Virus was created by their DNA, maybe the key to taking down Spencer was in them.

Marcus took the fluid in the syringe and put a drop on the slide, adjusting the microscope's resolution so he could see better, occasionally looking away to take notes in his logbook. He had to hurry and finish his work as soon as possible, the game was coming to a dangerous phase and Marcus' side of the board was exposed, leaving his king and queen wide open.

However, in his haste, he failed to notice a small black Ipod taped to the back of the computer hard-drive, a USB cable hooked into it and a message scrawled on the small screen that read,

"Download in progress."...

**Sorry it's a little late. Writer's block.**

**I am just making sure that there is no inconsistencies in the plot, characters and timeline of the story. I am a bit of a perfectionist.**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who read, reviewed and favourited the story! I am glad that people enjoy it as much as I enjoy your stories. Please keep writing!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 24!!!**


	24. Chapter 24

Twenty Four

Birkin didn't know whether he was sweating from the heat or from the fact that he was incredibly nervous. He fumbled with his shirt collar and tie to try and relieve the heat in his throat, to cool himself off so that there wasn't any sign of his anxiety. If he were to be anxious or nervous about this meeting, it might give the game away.

It had been a couple of months past since he had first joined Umbrella and started working on the Progenitor, finding out the nay mutations it caused on all living things and how that it was to used for Umbrella's true purpose of making BOWs. But, he and his partner, Albert Wesker, had discerned that something was wrong with the manager of the Arklay Training Facility, James Marcus, and Wesker had decided to snoop around Marcus' lab for answers while Birkin continued their work to appease the company. And what Wesker had found was that Marcus had developed a new virus from the Progenitor and some leeches that he had bred over several generations whilst infected by the Progenitor.

Though they both knew that they had to tread carefully, since they both saw that Marcus was going insane with his paranoia that Spencer would steal his work. And if he discovered that Wesker and Birkin were sneaking about in his lab, then they were both for the high-jump.

Hence why Birkin was worried. They had so far managed to escape Marcus' notice and were able to monitor every bit of his work, thanks to Wesker's equipment, since October 1977. Now, February 11th 1978, Marcus had called both of them to his lab to discuss something, said it was really important and couldn't talk about it over the phone. Ever since both Wesker and Birkin had started work on the Progenitor, Marcus never left his lab, never performed his duties as the director and never requested a meeting with people. So, the only reason that Birkin could think of for why Marcus wanted to see them was because he had found out they had been snooping in his lab and was prepared to 'fire' them.

_Then why is he so damn calm? Isn't he afraid at all? After all, he was the one doing the snooping._

Whilst Birkin was sweating bullets and feeling nervous, Wesker was stood against the opposite side of the elevator, arms folded over his chest, sunglasses ever present over his eyes and his face showed an expression of complete calm, no hint of any other emotion evident on his face.

Despite the fact that he was the one sneaking around in Marcus' lab, he showed no hint of concern or anxiety about this meeting at all, as if he knew how the meeting would proceed and was confident that nothing would happen to them. Somehow, though Birkin partly believed was ridiculous, he believed that Wesker was fully aware that this would have happened and had planned how it would proceed. Wesker was a careful planner after all and he would have considered every possible outcome, including this, and had made preparations for each and every one of them, just in casse they occurred. But that fact did little to ease his tension and he was still quite nervous about this meeting.

"I am really not sure about this, Wesker," he stated, openly voicing his concern.

Wesker continued to stare at his reflection in the elevator doors impassively, only making a brief movement of his hand to straighten his sunglasses. "There is no need to worry. He most likely hasn't discovered anything that involves us snooping around in the lab and if he has, he won't be able to link it back to us. Trust me, I've covered my tracks carefully," he assured.

"But how do you know he hasn't found anything? Or if he won't place it back to us if he has?" Birkin asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Wesker turned to face Birkin, his face the same emotionless expression that it wore all the time. "It's because he trusts us," he simply said.

Birkin arched an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"As we have shown the most promise on the Progenitor research and in helping keep the facility running enough that the higher-ups won't come crashing in anytime soon. Thus, he has labeled us as trustworthy enough for him to ask for our help. And if he has found anything, he will just say it was Spencer trying to spy on him. All we have to do is keep calm and not give anything away, then he will be completely in the dark," he explained.

The elevator soon came to a stop with a small 'ping' and the metallic doors slid open, revealing a long wide corridor lined with pipes along the ceilings and vents in the floor, and a metal double door at the end.

Wesker stepped out of the elevator and walked towards the door at a brisk pace, showing no sign of hesitation or fear of what would happen. Birkin, on the other hand, straightened his tie, smoothed down his lab coat, wiped his forehead of sweat and took deep breaths to calm down his anxiety. They had to be calm and show no sign of any sort about Marcus' work, except if he expected it. Though Birkin wasn't exactly 'people-smart', he knew how to act in front of certain people, in order to get what he needed for his work, so this was no exception.

_Don't worry. Just stay calm, think clearly, speak only when spoken to and let Wesker handle most of the discussing._

Wesker knocked on the door and a security camera turned to face them, the red light on the lens indicating that it was currently working and watching their every movement. The electronic locks on the door opened with a series of high-pitched beeps and clicks, before one of the doors slid open to reveal the lab inside.

Both of them stepped through the door and stood to one side as it slid shut, the locks resetting themselves to signify the door was automatically sealed. The lab itself was a long rectangular room placed on its smaller sides so that it looked as if it stood vertically. A table stood to the left side of the room, upon which were racks filled with test-tubes, countless pieces of papers covered in hastily scrawled notes and a computer currently displaying the Umbrella screen-saver. Opposite the door they had entered from was another double door with the sounds of animals coming from it.

_Specimen storage._

Birkin strolled throughout the lab, occasionally glancing at the notes on the table and the samples of what looked like a test-tube filled with a crimson red fluid whilst Wesker stood still in his current place, his arms folded across his chest. As Birkin stared at the samples, he fought down the urge to steal one and take it back to his lab for testing, his mind becoming wracked with questions about what Marcus' latest creation could do that made it ten times better than the Progenitor.

Ever since Wesker had shown him the stolen data about this T-Virus, Birkin became instantly fascinated with it, seeing how incredibly different it was from the Progenitor in every possible aspect that he knew of viruses and micro-organisms, despite the fact that it had been the Progenitor to begin with. And he had often wondered and discussed privately with Wesker about the possibilities that its difference from its predecessor might affect the type of bio-weapons they could make, how its mutational properties might affect all animal kingdoms in completely new ways than what the Progenitor could do before and how they could harness that potential to create something on a total new idea of bio-weapons.

But before they could try to make such weapons and conduct such experiments, they had to have a sample to work with and if they were to take one now, that would drop them waist-deep in shit. So the only thing they could do right now was be patient.

"I wonder where he keeps the leeches? The ones that he had utilized to make this new biological weapon?" he asked, not realizing he had said this out loud.

"Look behind you," Wesker replied simply.

Birkin looked over his shoulder behind him and his eyes widened in amazement at what wass standing proudly against the wall.

Behind him stood a ten foot glass tank shaped like a hexagon with a metal door placed in one side and a small hatch at the foot of the door. Inside the tank were dozens of leeches, all of them crawling around the tank leaving behind a trail of thin, clear mucus. Birkin stepped closer to the tank to catch a closer look at the leeches and saw that they were the size of a man's fist, with a baseball-shaped eye in the middle of its back that was in constant motion to see everything around it. And when one passed over the glass in front of his eyes, he saw that it had teeth the size of daggers, razor-sharp and dripping with infected saliva.

Birkin found himself intrigued by these leeches as they crawled over the glass in satisfaction at fulfilling the simplest of higher brain functions that they possessed. These leeches had started out as mere insects infected with the Progenitor, simple organisms that had very little in the ways of purpose and were now something altogether different than from what they had been beforehand. They had been bred other several generations to become a far greater entity than before, had completely altered everything that had once been part of the Progenitor and had turned it into something new, something that could create an even more powerful B.O.W.

_And it can't stop there. We can make a more powerful virus than the new T-Virus. We can make even more B.O.Ws than before. With this, Umbrella will be the biggest seller of bio-weapons in the world. And to work on such a thing, to contribute to its utilization, would be-_

"Beautiful, aren't they?" a voice asked behind him.

Birkin jumped slightly and turned around to see Marcus standing behind him, gazing up at his leeches with admiration and another emotion that Birkin couldn't or didn't want to place. In the bright light of the lab, Birkin could see that Marcus' hair was a mess, several strands sticking out of place, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen with black bags under his eyelids, and he had developed a facial tic at the right side of his mouth. Obviously, his obsessive possession of his work and paranoia towards his work had began to manifest itself physically.

Birkin ceased his analysis of Marcus and turned back to the leeches. "Yes, they are. In a way," he answered.

He saw, from the reflections in the glass, that Marcus turned to face Wesker, to ask Wesker's opinion, only receiving a slight nod in response. Marcus then gestured for them to come forward and walked towards the desk, Birkin and Wesker in tow. He tapped a few keys on the computer and opened up a folder that displayed the picture of the T-Virus' DNA strand that Wesker had showed Birkin a few months back. Birkin widened his eyes slightly to feign surprise whilst Wesker showed no emotion whatsoever, except for a fake hint of curiosity. Luckily, Marcus hadn't been able to discern their act and stepped back for them to take a closer look.

"There, young ones," he began in what Birkin most suspected was a rant, "is the accomplishment of a whole decades worth of research and experimentation. My crowning glory in the field of the biological warfare, the successor to what once was the Progenitor, the Tyrant-Virus."

Wesker used the mouse and began clicking on parts of the image to magnisy it enough for a closer look whilst Birkin picked up one of the piles of notes and began to read through them. He had already read most of them earlier, thanks to Wesker, and knew what they would say, about the difference between the Progenitor and the T-Virus in all aspects of a virus' properties, how he had developed it and how it could be used to expand on their research. But Birkin knew that he had to make it seem like he was trying to find out about Marcus' work, pretend that this was the first time he had seen it before, in order to fool Marcus into trusting them so that nothing came back to them.

_Remember to ask questions and try to stay interested. Just keep him humored and don't give a reason to suspect you._

Birkin looked up with feign wonder. "The Progenitor. It...it isn't there anymore," he said in awe.

Marcus nodded in enthusiastic agreement, rubbing his hands together vigorously. "It has fully replaced and surpassed the Progenitor in every possible way. If applied properly to our current work on bio-weapons, we could create a whole new range of mutants, a whole new ideal on our work. In short," he leaned closer towards them and spoke in a low whisper that Wesker had to come over, "we can give an ordinary man the powers of a God."

Wesker cleared his throat. "What about Spencer? What will happen if he finds out about this new virus?" he asked.

Marcus clenched his hands in barely controlled rage and his eyes held a huge sense of malice. "That is the reason I asked to meet with you. I believe that Spencer has sent spies to try and find out anything about my that they can report to him. At first, I had found that they had tampered with my security cameras outside the lab entrance, having it play back continually on a loop to fool me. Now, just today, I have found that some of my files on my computer have been copied and downloaded to an unknown source but I can't find out where the source is and who is using it," he explained.

Birkin immediately suppressed an immense feeling of shock at this news. He turned to look at Wesker, seeing no hint of an emotion on his blank, cool features, despite the fact that he was the one who had been snooping in Marcus' lab. Though Birkin soon managed to feel a wash of relief at the news that Marcus had no idea who it was that was spying on him, so they were momentarily safe.

"Why are asking us for help?" Birkin questioned. "How do you know that we won't tell this Spencer or anyone? Why do you trust us?"

Marcus pointed at each of them. "Because you are the only ones that have the vision and belief in the work that I have. You both are able to see what the Progenitor was before and you can see the true potential that the T-Virus has. You are my greatest students, my protégées, and if there is anyone that I can trust in helping me keeping this virus from Spencer, it's the pair of you," Marcus explained, his voice filled with gratitude.

For a brief moment, Birkin actually felt a pang of regret and guilt at what Marcus had said. Since it was Birkin and Wesker all along who were stealing his work, and had even began to make plans on how to use it once they took over, the responsibility lay on their heads. And now, with no idea of what his protégées had been doing, he was giving his complete and utter trust in them helping to protect his work from Spencer.

_Don't worry about him. Keep yourself alive. If Spencer thinks we're in league with Marcus, we're dead. And if Marcus thinks we're working for Spencer, we are dead still._

"What do you want us to do?" Wesker asked.

Marcus beamed slightly, and his eyes lightened with extreme relief and joy at their acceptance. "Excellent! Well, I need you to keep an eye on the other staff and employees that are residing in this facility, try to rat out the spies in the camp. If you find them, send them straight to me. Don't worry about handling it yourself, you just find them, let me handle them...personally," he ordered darkly, his joyous smile taking a cold and malicious smirk, which sent shivers down Birkin's spine.

"Very well. Is that all?" Wesker asked.

Marcus nodded and clicked a button under the desk for the door to unlock. It emitted a high-pitched beep, followed by a loud click and it swung open slowly. Wesker and Birkin walked out at a brisk pace towards the elevator as the door slid shut behind them, Wesker pushed the up-arrow button by the door and they waited for the elevator to come down, the numbers above the door lighting up in the right-to-left order until it arrived with a small ping and the doors slid open.

Wesker stepped in first, followed by Birkin, and he pushed the button for the top floor. The elevator doors slid shut with a clank and it proceeded upwards with a loud hum.

Birkin clutched at his chest as his heart started going into overdrive and his head broke out anew with sweat. That was a little too close for comfort. If any of them had so much as had a slip of a tongue, then the game would be over and they would be dead. Sometimes, Birkin wondered why he even was working with Wesker in the first place, he was much better just working with what came to him and just waiting until his boss gave him something new to work on. He had been going that same path of improving on others work when they themselves had failed, finding the answers that they couldn't, not to go sneaking into other people's laboratories, copying their work whilst avoiding death in the process. He just couldn't take it anymore.

"I can't do this anymore. Listen, just do what you want Wesker, but leave me out of this. I am very much afraid, and I won't stick around long enough for Marcus to kill us," he stated, venting out all the worries he had built up.

Wesker stood staring at the elevator doors, showing no hint of a reaction to Birkin's statement. "You do realize that you and I are deep, don't you." he simply replied, phrasing it as a saying, not a question.

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "So I am getting out of this while I still can. And if you are smart, you will do the same thing."

Wesker, instead of replying, pushed the emergency stop button, causing the elevator to shut down and the lights to go out, leaving the small space in dark shadows. Wesker then walked up to Birkin and stared at him fully, tilting his sunglasses down for his eyes to be fully visible. This was one of the moments that Birkin was glad he wasn't claustrophobic because, as much as he knew on the subject, being trapped in a dark, windowless, small metallic space suspended over a deep pit by a large metal wire, could scare any of those poor people. But if they had all that and Wesker eyes glaring at them full on in the face, they would most likely die of a heart attack.

_This is the first time I have seen his eyes behind his sunglasses. And I don't whether or not he is more terrifying with or without them._

Though to Birkin, it didn't matter either way, because both ways pertrified him to the core. When Wesker wore his sunglasses, the scary part was that you couldn't tell what he was thinking, what emotion played through his mind or where his attention was directed; in some supernatural way, the reflector sunglasses somehow helped to enhance the blank expression he showed to everyone, making the only way to tell what emotion went through his mind by the slight tone his voice would occasionally take (feigned or not).

But without his sunglasses, there wasn't much difference except for that his eyes enhanced his outward expression, showing his cool, calm and collected personality that was always evident in Wesker. But at the moment, Birkin could also see a slight tinge of anger floating on the vestiges of his expression, like a small dark object on the edge of the horizon.

"Listen very carefully, William," he began, his tone containing that sight sense of anger which scared Birkin immensely, "you and I have come too far for us to turn back now. You became involved in this ever since you agreed to my offer of allegiance, so don't think you're quitting on it just because of a little mishap."

"But, he found evidence that-"

"Remember the reason you agreed to work with me on this endeavour?" he interrupted.

Birkin remained silent, knowing full well that he was defeated. Instead, he nodded glumly in response.

"You joined me because you wanted to work on the Progenitor as it was the best suited for your abilities. You joined me because you hated those training sessions with the other candidates who greatly underestimated you. You joined me because you were eager to move on," Wesker answered, crossing his arms over his chest and his ice-cold, blue eyes staring him full in the face.

Birkin looked down at his feet, more to avoid Wesker's penetrating gaze than out of shame. "But it is getting too dangerous. If he finds out-" he trailed off, knowing that Wesker was aware of the consequences as well.

Wesker walked over to the panel and hit the emergency stop button again, starting the elevator back up and went back to staring at his reflection in thought. "Then we shall have to be more cautious. I'll stay out of his labs now, we have all the data we need. And since Marcus trusts us, he won't make the connection anytime soon. All we have to do is stay out of his way," Wesker explained.

Birkin wisely kept his mouth shut and leaned back against the elevator wall in exhaustion. He knew that Wesker was right, as he was the careful planner of the pair and knew a lot more about people than Birkin did, knew how their minds worked and how to use it to their advantage. So all Birkin had to worry about was sticking with his orders and keeping up with their work.

But right now, he needed a cup of coffee. All this stress was giving a serious migraine...

Marcus had always suspected that someone was spying on his work, always watching over him like a parasite, sending details about his work back to that Tyrant Spencer and this sabotage on his equipment helped to only prove the situation, that he was under constant surveillance. But he had never caught the person or persons responsible for sneaking into in his lab and taking anything that belonged to him back to Spencer.

Until, on April 30th, he was on his way back to his lab after having a short nap to regain his energy to carry on with his work. He knew that he was getting closer and closer to gaining the power he needed to crush Spencer, slowly but surely he was, and the leeches were to be harbinger of that power he knew it. He noticed several changes in the way they acted, the way they behaved towards their and each other, and even to Marcus.

And somehow, Marcus noticed a behaviourial change he had towards the leeches. He found himself becoming attached to them as a father would to his children, a sense of loving devotion and over protectiveness towards their safety. He had often wondered why he felt like that towards them, but always dismissed that train of thought so he could get back to his work.

But as he neared the lab, he saw that the door was open wide and he heard the sounds of someone moving about inside. He immediately stopped in shock, thinking about any way that the person could have got into his lab without him letting them in. No employee knew that he worked down here, let alone the code for the door, except for Wesker and Birkin, and he was quite sure that he hadn't requested anyone to visit him at all today.

Which left only one answer. He clenched his fists in rage as the answer came into his head.

_It's one of Spencer's goons._

He knew now that it was the spies, that Spencer had sent to steal his work, who were prowling around inside his lab, looking for anything important to steal and take back to Spencer. And he was apparently so arrogant that he had underestimated Marcus in thinking that he wouldn't be noticed and could leave the door open without any worry at all.

An evil grin appeared on Marcus' face as he checked inside his jacket for the comforting weight of the 9mm pistol that he now carried with him from now on. He had borrowed a gun from the security guards for self-defense and to get rid off intruders in his lab just in case, making sure that they had cleaned it, and took along two clips for extra ammo. He didn't have to worry about using it because he had been employed by the American military as a doctor through WWII before he changed his occupation to work with Spencer, so he had the experience he needed to use it on the intruder in case anything went wrong.

The grin stayed on his face as he crept closer to the door, taking light footsteps on the cold, concrete floor, turning the safety off and pulling back the slide to load a round in the barrel, holding it towards the door in case the intruder tried to leave. He wouldn't let anyone take his work away from him, nobody, not now, not then, not ever. And if they couldn't see it that way, then so be it.

But as he crept closer to the door, a sudden thought occurred in his mind.

_Can a human being be a good food source for the leeches?_

Marcus stopped and lowered the weapon, his body standing completely still in the corridor as that thought echoed throughout the confines of his mind. He had complained about the lack of suitable test-subjects earlier in his work, having only been permitted to work on rodents in retaliation for his lack of updates on his work, which provided no useful data whatsoever. And he knew that in order to achieve any decent data to work, he needed a more subject such as a human being.

But that was back when he worked on only the T-Virus itself. Now he was continuing his research on the leeches and they took precedence over everything else. Yet he was still not permitted to have any other animal available to him for any part of his work and thus he still could only use rodents, a less than satisfactory food source altogether for the dozens of leeches he had stored in the tank.

Although, now he had a human being for his leeches to feed on. And not just that, a volunteer!

The grin widened into a malicious smile, rivaling that which Spencer normally wore. This was a perfect opportunity for him to take care of two problems, he could feed the leeches with the intruder so that no one would be none the wiser on what he was working on. So he would be able, for a lack of a better phrase, 'to kill two birds with one stone'.

He replaced the smile on his face with a look of anger and walked into the room-

-to see a young man in his mid-twenties standing over his desk, holding several of Marcus' notes under his arm as he was working on the computer. When Marcus walked in, he immediately looked up, eyes widening at seeing Marcus himself in the door and dropped the pieces of paper he held under his to pull out his silenced 9mm Beretta from his thigh holster on his left leg.

He pointed the gun at Marcus and narrowed his eyes. "Dr Marcus, I was beginning to think that you had abandoned your work."

Marcus sneered in response. "I would never abandon my work! Especially to a worthless little scum for a grunt like you," he snarled.

He took a step towards the soldier, forcing him to step back one pace. The soldier steadied his aim and pointed his gun at Marcus' head.

"Don't move!" he ordered.

Marcus smirked and circled left, the soldier swiveling on the spot to keep his gun pointed at the crazed scientist. "Go ahead, shoot me," Marcus goaded, stopping so that he was in front his desk. "Be a man. Or are you just a slave?"

The soldier growled and fired above Marcus' head, blowing a small hole in the roof as Marcus flinched at the shot, pieces of plaster raining down on him. He then chuckled. "Some man you are, doctor," he taunted.

Marcus acted as if he was stumbling and clutched hold of the desk for support. But as his left hand grabbed the desk, he pressed on a small red button located underneath it, and the door that led inside the leech tank swung opening. The leeches, currently asleep inside, immediately opened their eyes to see what had disturbed their rest and let out a faint cooing noise.

The soldier, surprised by the sound looked over his shoulder to see what was behind him and Marcus sprang into, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He charged at the soldier and grabbed him around the waist, shoving him with all his strength into the tank and slammed the door shut, immediately locking it.

The leeches soon pounced on the soldier before he could react and covered him completely in a dark wave of slimy insects. The soldier screamed in terror and agony as he flailed around madly, trying to shake of the leeches that were firmly latched onto his skin, blood splattered everywhere in the tank, over the glass, ceiling and floor, and his screams echoed throughout the entire room until his screams stopped in an awful gurgling noise and the soldier's corpse slumped to the floor.

Whilst this gruesome display went on, Marcus had pulled up a chair close to the glass and wrote notes throughout the entire ordeal, even when the soldier's corpse began to twitch and his throat emitted out a loud moan. He was feeling ecstatic and giddy from his leeches feast because he knew that what he would learn here would benefit him in taking down Spencer.

There is a saying that the human mind can only endure so much trauma and stress for so long, for the mind continues to twist and bend from its ordeals, becoming more tense and brittle. Until finally, at a certain breaking point, the mind snaps in two. And for Marcus, he had reached this breaking point...


	25. Chapter 25

Twenty Five

May 23rd 1978, inside Umbrella Europe HQ, Paris.

The Executive Board of Umbrella arrived inside the compound from each of their own areas by helicopter, having been called to convene in a meeting concerning Umbrella's recent troubles by Director Henri. All the higher-ups, Directors Takashi, Claxton, Bienn, Vladimir, McVarian, Lord Spencer and his secretary Laura arrived by helicopter and each of them were saluted by every guard on the grounds as they proceeded into the extravagant palace that was Umbrella Europe HQ.

The Europe Headquarters was a large mansion that resided on the outskirts of France, surrounded by a large open courtyard filled with marble sculptures and fountains at the front entrance, sealed of by large stone walls that stretched around the estate with a huge iron gate embroidered with the red and white Umbrella logo. At the back of the estate was a large hedge maze with a small seating area placed at the center and a pool was placed in front of it near the back entrance, surrounded by a tile floor with parasols put up over deck chairs sitting out towards the pool.

The inside of the mansion was a reflection of the splendour and perfection that Christina Henri showed in her personality aside from her 'ice-queen' persona. The main hall expanded to at least thirty feet above them and was a wide array of interconnecting arches ending in small, golden chandeliers at each point, several light bulbs disguised as candles illuminating the scene before them. The carved oaken door opened onto a long crimson red carpet that led towards the grand staircase before them, which curved to the right and left in two branches, the tile floor of the hall so finely polished and cleaned that one could their own reflection in it.

Spencer found this mansion to be lot like his own estate except for several changes in the interior and exterior design, but otherwise, the mansions could be seen as non-identical twins, seeing as how both mansions had a essence of splendor, magnificence and architectural perfection. He briefly wondered if Henri had ever asked George Trevor to create a mansion for her earlier in her career but dismissed the thought immediately; Trevor was dead and buried along with his wife, whilst his daughter was still providing groundbreaking new research topics for them to focus on.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen," Christina announced from the grand staircase, catching the attention of the other directors, "to my most humble abode. It pleases me that you have arrived in time for our meeting."

Director Henri was dressed a crisp black, button-up blazer with matching skirt and heels, with a white, freshly-ironed, buttoned-up shirt beneath it. Her hair was held up in a ponytail by a black hair band, and her face was as cold and indifferent as ever, except for the slight smile of appreciation towards the other directors for coming.

The other directors wore similar styles of clothing with them being black suits, white shirts, matching trousers (or skirts for women) and shoes. Though each of them had an accessory that differentiated them from each other, such as Spencer's cane, Takashi's signet ring, Claxton's head-scarf, Bienn's huge golden bracelet and several platinum rings, McVarian's three-crowns on his shoulder and Sergei's cyan-blue trench coat.

Spencer bowed in courtesy. "It is an honor beyond measure to be here, my dear," he replied, to which Christina returned with a curtsy.

Her expression back to the cold, business manner she was notorious for and she turned around to head back up the stairs. "We should proceed with the meeting. Please, come this way."

The directors of Umbrella walked through the many halls of the Henri estate, occasionally glancing at the pieces of art and sculptures that sat on the walls or cabinets placed throughout the many rooms, receiving salutes from the guards that they passed on the way. They soon came to a large conference room on the west wing of the estate, which overlooked the forest that lay outside the estate walls. The conference room consisted of a large circular table that had five leather armchairs positioned around it in a pentagon shape so that they could see the projector screen behind them. Two large windows were placed at the opposite end of the room, letting in huge shafts of sunlight to brighten up the room with crimson red curtains placed on either side of the windows, held back by a golden-colored rope.

Each of them took a seat, with Spencer being at the head of the table, followed clockwise was Henri, Takashi, Bienn and Claxton, with Sergei, McVarian and Laura standing behind Spencer.

Henri clicked her fingers and one of the guards brought in two manila folders, placing them in front of Henri and left. Henri opened up one of the folders and pulled out several reports from each of their Monitor Agents stationed across the globe, putting back those that she didn't think were important.

She picked up a remote control from her pocket and clicked it, the projector screen lighting up to reveal the village that had been destroyed by Alpha-4 to stop a Progenitor outbreak.

"As you know, this was the first time that we had a leak in one of our facilities ever since the founding of Umbrella. We had not been able to determine the cause of the leak and how it managed to spread to the outside when the White Queen should have sealed off the facility to prevent the infection from spreading." She clicked the button again and the image switched to a desert plateau that had erupted into a giant mushroom cloud. "Then, at 1231 hours, January 1972, this facility in Utah, approximately 150 miles away from Salt Lake City suffered a biohazard outbreak and we sent in the USF to quell the situation. It was a successful mission, but there was 99 fatality rate of the troops." She clicked the button again to reveal a part of the Amazon jungle being demolished by an explosion. "Then, at 0012 hours on April 1975, there was a leak at one of our most important facilities in South America. Once again, we sent in the USF and, as with the previous two missions, 99 were reported killed," she explained, passing out the reports.

After reading one of the reports thoroughly, Takashi spoke up.

"Was there anything at all from the incidents that we could use for future endeavors?" he asked, passing the report across the table to Bienn.

Bienn cleared his throat. "Yes, there is. It seems that some of the research staff had survived the initial leaks in the research facility, despite direct exposure to the virus itself. As of yet, we are working to find out why this is so and sending our findings to other labs in different continents for their own theories to be tested," he explained.

"Plus, the Twin Queens would have got all the combat data we needed on the mutants and infected for us to see if they will make good B.O.Ws. And they will have most definitely erased any evidence of our involvement," Claxton informed them.

Spencer held out his left hand and Laura handed him his sliver cigar case. "Who was the man who completed the assignments?" he asked.

McVarian tossed a report onto the table. "It was the same man who accomplished the mission in Africa. John Doe," he said.

Spencer looked at the file and saw the picture of the sole surviving USF soldier that had returned from the Africa mission along with the surviving head scientist and all the research data.

"So he was the only survivor from Alpha Team on the African mission," Takashi stated, not phrasing it as a question.

"And the Amazon mission, along with the Utah Mission. He has always been in Alpha Team as the fourth soldier and has always survived every mission he does. When the other teams were all wiped out, he has accomplished all the missions with deadly efficiency and great determination. I guess he really is as his catch phrase says he is 'The Death cannot die'," McVarian informed, smiling slightly as he said the phrase that Alpha-4 always used as a motto.

Claxton looked at the report, pursing her lips. "Is John Doe his real name?" she asked, not taking her eyes from the paper.

"Not really. It's just the name we give him when we write his reports. We don't who he really is, where he was born or if he has any family. The only thing we do know about him is that he was born in 1954, was a gangster for most of his childhood and we had picked him up in New York at the age of fourteen, completed training in two years and has been with us for now a full decade. He is also quite a legend in the force and has been given three nicknames, as a mark of respect, though he prefers to be referred to by the last," McVarian explained.

"What are his code names?" Bienn asked.

"He is called John Doe, as you can see in the report, and 'Mr Death' or 'HUNK' by the soldiers," McVarian listed, ticking the names off on his fingers.

Henri chuckled slightly. "Charming names," she muttered with a hint of sarcasm. "Where did they come up with that?"

"As he is the only surviving man on any mission he goes on, people have begun to believe that he has immense amount of good luck and skill that prevents him from being killed, no matter how badly injured he is. So some have decided to call him the 'Human Unit Never Killed' or Hunk for short. And the other name just comes from the fact that he always survives and completes the mission whilst all his comrades are killed, so they have started to call him Mr Death," he explained.

Henri shook her head, still smiling. "Still rather strange though."

"They soldiers, director, not poets," Spencer retorted.

Takashi tapped his fingers in a rhythm on the table as he was thought over what was said. "If this soldier has stopped all the outbreaks from spreading and all the data is safely stored in the Twin Queens, then why are we here? What is the purpose of this meeting?" he asked.

Christina Henri's face turned back to the indifferent expression she always wore and clicked a button on the screen again to show the picture of a fifteen year old girl. She had peachy-toned skin with pearly-white teeth, her brown hair was cut short, just lightly touching her shoulders, her smile and baby-blue eyes shining with the innocence and freedom that all youth had.

"This girl disappeared on the 1st May and hasn't been seen since," Henri stated turning back to face them.

Sergei twirled his blade around in his left hand. "What does the child have anything to do with us?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Henri pulled out a small tape recorder and pushed the play button.

"Heather, baby, if you are out there and you can hear us, please come home. We are so worried about you, me, your father, your friends. Please just come home. Jus...jus...just come home," a woman's voice begged, her voice shaking with immense grief and sadness, followed by her sorrowful crying as she lost her resolve.

Just as Spencer was about to ask how this was important, Henri held up her hand and forwarded the tape slightly before playing again. The voice of reporter could be heard clearly above the sounds of cameras taking pictures, people asking questions and the police calling for calm.

"This was a live broadcast in front of the Raccoon City Hall on the press conference for Heather Celia Harris, who has been missing for 22 days and hasn't been heard from since. Her last known location before her disappearance was that she had been jogging along a mountain road in the northern range of the Arklay mountains early on April 30th. There has yet to be a ransom demand and no word on the current condition of the missing girl. Police Chief Eric Simmons has ensured the Harris family that their daughter will be returned home safely and the R.P.D is currently investigating the region where the girl had last be seen heading towards. More on the story, as it develops. Elle Bracken, Raccoon Daily News, City Hall."

Spencer's eyes went wide as petri-dishes and he clutched his chest as his heart started pounding relentlessly against his ribs, losing his ability to breath. McVarian and Sergei rushed to his side as his breath came out in wheezy gasps, Laura reaching inside her briefcase for a bottle of Metoprolol and handing him the pill then a glass of water for him to down it.

"You must be careful of your blood pressure, Lord Spencer," Laura warned, placing the drink on the table in front of him.

The other higher-ups were all standing up in alert after their leader started to have a breathing struggle but all slowly sat back down once they were sure his condition was okay. Spencer flipped open his cigar case and pulled out a cigar with shaky hands, placed it between his lips, taking out his lighter and lighting it, and placed it between his lips.

As he deeply inhaled on the smoke and the nicotine flooded through his system, calming down his nerves, his mind went back to the subject of that news report. He didn't know anything about the girl herself, assuming that she was just an ordinary civilian, but he certainly knew the location of where she disappeared. Or more accurately, he knew of the significance of that location, having supervised the construction of an important building that the corporation used once they had purchased the land.

_It's right near the Training Facility._

The trail she had disappeared from was only a five mile walk away from the facility grounds if one left via the emergency exit in the treatment plant's underground heliport. The security staff had orders to patrol that area secretly, keeping out of sight of civilians and to not detain them, unless they showed any sign of exploring the area and getting too close to the facility's compound.

But she had been just an ordinary girl doing a simple habit of jogging to keep her physical figure in shape and to stay healthy. So why would the security kidnap the girl when she was barely a threat? Why did they kidnap her and risk bringing the public eye down on their work with the police now conducting an investigation of the area? It was all too incompetent and stupid.

"That's not all," Sergei declared.

Everyone looked up to him in curiosity and astonishment at what he said. Spencer narrowed his eyes slightly and took another inhale on his cigar.

"What else has happened?" he asked, the cigar smoke masking his face in a small haze of gray smoke.

Sergei pulled out a small radio from his belt and pushed the 'Respond' button, speaking quickly in Russian to the person on the other end. The conversation lasted ten minutes before Sergei turned off the radio and clipped it to his belt.

"What was that about?" Henri asked.

"As per Lord Spencer's orders, I had several Monitor Agents keep their eyes on Dr Marcus as we believe that he is up to something and may be turning into a threat. The growing evidence of his fading sanity and that he is refusing to provide updates on his work is reason enough for us to send the Agents. But recently, one of our Agents had went missing, most likely from discovering something that Marcus didn't want him to. So the best agent at our disposal had searched throughout Marcus' laboratories and the treatment plant, and has unearthed some startling new evidence that I think you should see," Sergei explained.

The doors of the conference room opened and a soldier dressed in a black military uniform stepped inside, standing to attention as he got near the table. He had short white hair, cold green eyes and seemed to keep himself in good physical shape; but what really startled Spencer about this soldier was that he looked a lot like a child.

The soldier snapped a salute at the directors, eyes focused on the wall behind them. "Sergeant Nicholai Ginoveaf. Reporting as per requested, directors," he stated and stood at ease, snapping his arm back in place.

"How old are you, soldier?" Claxton asked, arching an eyebrow at him from behind her head-scarf.

"I am fifteen years of age, going on sixteen, ma'am," he answered.

Spencer calmly inhaled and exhaled on his cigar. "Only fifteen? Still quite young? Sergei must have you in high regard to employ at such a young age," he stated.

"Nicholai's father was one of my most trusted men in the Red Army. Alexei Ginoveaf and I served with each other throughout WWII against the Nazis, from Stalingrad to the conquest of the Reichstag. Nicholai is a lot like his father in that they are both highly-skilled and trustworthy soldiers for us to employ. He is one of the best in Monitor that we have," Sergei declared.

Nicholai cleared his throat uneasily in embarassment and pulled out a small CD from his pocket and slid it inside the projector. He held out his hand towards Director Henri and she handed him the remote; he pressed the button and on the screen came up a list of names.

"These dozen people had all disappeared around or in the area of the training facility and treatment plant in the Arklay mountains. The time that they had started disappearing was after April 30th, when the first person went missing," Nicholai began, scrawling down the list of names to the end.

"Who were these people?" Bienn asked, rubbing his rings nervously.

"Well, half of them were civilians who strayed too near the area. First, there was a family of four people, husband and wife with two sons, who were living in a cabin a few miles away from the facility's western perimeter. Then, it was a tramp that had strayed too close to the perimeter and was detained by security. Finally, there was that girl on the news who went missing whilst jogging along the trail nearby," he answered, bringing up pictures of each person.

"That was only half. What about the rest?" Takashi asked.

"That's the disturbing point. The other half dozen were Umbrella employees," he simply responded.

Everyone, including Spencer, gasped in surprise and shock at this news. At first, they had thought that the security was just detaining them for trespassing on their property. But now they realized that someone was abducting their own employees from the facility.

"The employees who disappeared," Nicholai continued, "were one security guard, three scientists in training and two Monitor Agents."

Spencer clenched his cane tighter, thinking that he knew in the back of his mind where this was heading. "Did you find them?" he asked in a dark tone of voice.

"Yes, we did," Nicholai replied simply.

Nicholai clicked the button again and the screen to show a horrifying image of several skeletons piled under a sewer grating, covered in slime and sewage water falling from the roof waterfall.

"These skeletons are the remains of all the missing people. Apparently, they had been used in some kind of experiment and were killed during the process. The disposal staff had been given orders not to inform anyone about these bodies or who had ordered them disposed, though the threat of being executed for endangering the corporation soon got them talking," Nicholai explained.

"Who ordered the disposal of the bodies?" McVarian asked, although, like Spencer, he had a pretty good idea who was behind it.

Nicholai glanced at all of them before taking a deep breath. "Dr James Marcus," he announced.

Everyone in the room gasped slightly, except for Spencer who clenched his cane incredibly tightly, his face going red with rage and a low snarl escaped his throat.

He had always suspected that this would happen, that Marcus would become overly obsessed with his work and begin to plunge into the depths of insanity, risking everything that they had worked for to get to their current positions in life, all because he couldn't except the reason that he was in the employment of Umbrella and that he would ALWAYS answer to them, no matter what he thought.

But now, he was putting themselves in considerable danger by abducting that girl and family near the training facility, causing the public of Raccoon City to worry and the local police force to investigate the area. That trail was precariously close to the treatment plant perimeter and there was the chance that the police may spot the unmarked trucks leaving the perimeter along the trail, carrying a full load of burnt bodies to be destroyed.

Although Umbrella had a large substantial influence of control of Raccoon City, and was gaining considerable control all over the globe, they still had risks of being brought to light and convicted because they still had much more that they needed to own, more people to control and more power to grant themselves to. The corporation had only been formed a decade ago and their control over the world at the moment was huge, but if anyone that they didn't control discover what they were up to, the game was over.

All of Raccoon City's most powerful figures, such as Mayor Andrews, the Zoning Board, waterworks and power stations, the pubic Trading Board, the Chief of Police Eric Simmons and most of the civil service were under Umbrella's thumb, but there were still those that they had no power over and would go blabbing about their research if it was discovered. Thus Marcus was really playing with fire this time around and was getting them all burnt.

But what really poured salt into the wound was the fact that he was using Umbrella employees as specimens for his work. That facility was constructed to train suitable candidates to become the ideal employees they wanted them to be, to create future workers, rulers and soldiers of Umbrella Inc, not to use as test subjects in a pointless research endeavor. Marcus was forsaking everything they had accomplished, everything that they still needed to do and was ignoring the point about the value of those trainees would be in the near future expansions of their work.

"But, there is something far more important that you should know," Nicholai announced, pulling out a folder and sliding it across the table to be seated in front of Spencer.

Spencer picked up the folder and opened it, reading through the contents. As the words began to register and sink into his mind, his face remained stoic but in the back of his mind, his anger washed over him like a black tide blocked off by a dam.

"Apparently, Dr Marcus had developed a superior virus to the Progenitor using generational-bred leeches and the Progenitor itself to combine both of their genetic structures to change it into a more powerful virus. However, Marcus has taken it into his head that he can take down Lord Spencer if he continues to work on this 'Tyrant-Virus' and since his specimen supply has been greatly downgraded and diminished, he is starting to abduct any unfortunate people he can use for his work," Nicholai informed them, turning of the projector and standing at ease.

If the news about Marcus' abductions of civilians and employees wasn't bad enough or the fact that the police were precariously close to finding out about their work, but the fact about this revelation that Marcus had developed a new, more powerful virus without informing anyone of this endeavor and hoarding it in his possession, was kidnapping people in his bid to make himself more powerful. And the impudence, the audacity,of the situation was that he was aiming to take down Spencer and remove him from power in Umbrella's hierarchy.

_I helped to make Umbrella. I gave HIM the funding to find the Mother Virus, to create the Progenitor and to create the T-Virus. I played my part in this, I deserve my share in this for everything that I have done to keep his work safe. And he has the nerve to try and take ME down, and destroy what I have accomplished in the long-run of my career. Umbrella is MINE!_

Spencer growled and slammed his hand hard on his cigar case with such force, despite the fact that it was silver, had crushed it and the cigars inside to nothing but a mess of metal and ash.

_I must teach him a lesson. And at the same time, I'll test Birkin and Wesker's loyalties to me._

Spencer had thought over what to do about Marcus' protegee students as they had to receive a reward for their continuing work and loyalty. They had made a very good reputation amongst the training facility staff, had made good advances with how limited the Progenitor was and had always kept up to speed with updating the board on how their progress went. And on top of that, both of them showed that they had loyalty towards Spencer and Umbrella, and had great future promise in the company's research.

But Spencer knew that what they had done so far was not a true test of their loyalties as they might have kept up to speed on work and information update more out of fear and common sense rather than out of loyalty. Though Birkin was the one he knew would be fairly reliable because all Birkin cared for at the moment was his work, not moving up the hierarchy scale in the corporation so Spencer had no worries about him; all he needed to do was hand Birkin something new and promising to work on, and he would work on it.

But Wesker was the one Spencer really needed to check about where his loyalties lay in Umbrella. Wesker was the more smarter of the two in terms of people and had all the necessary diplomas, degrees, qualifications and praises to proof it. Athough Spencer had read the reports about how exceptional Wesker was in his work and working with other in his position as Head Researcher, how he treated them well and always made sure the lab ran efficiently.

But, as a sideline in the reports, it had also been noted that he usually followed his own rules whilst coinciding with others in order to to fulfill his ambitions. So Spencer had to ascertain whether or not his ambitions were all about just proceeding up the ranks of the research rather than trying to take down Spencer.

_Though if he does prove his worth with what I have in mind, then he and Birkin will continue Marcus' work._

Spencer liked to believe in rewarding all those he saw as his friends or who showed undying loyalty, giving either a place of power in his business endeavors or giving a new opportunity to take. It helped to cement their allegiance with him and create the illusion that he was always thinking what was best for them, when he only thought what was best for them because they would continue to work on their research in order to repay for his generosity.

It all just ended up coming back to what was best for the company and for Spencer's business power in the long run.

He stood up in his chair. "Well, ladies and gentlemen. You needn't worry about this situation. I will take care of it personally," he announced.

Everyone in the room all looked at him in curiosity and confusion as he walked out of the room, the guards snapping to attention as he stepped through the doors and proceeded down the halls. He walked through the hallways until he reached the front garden where the helicopter was waiting to lift off and take him back to Raccoon City, the rotors spinning in fast succession that it caused a gust of wind to blow his long white hair about his head like a silver wave.

He looked behind him as he could hear the sound of stilettoes coming up towrds him and saw Laura hurrying over to him.

She took in a few deep breaths before she looked at him square in the face, her own cheeks red from having to run to catch up to him.

"Is there anything you wish for me to do sir?" she asked, her voice strained with exhaustion.

He nodded. "When we get back, have a meeting set up between me, Wesker and Birkin in mid-June. I need to discuss things with them, about themselves and their work, and to see what opinion they have of Marcus," he explained.

Laura nodded and she nodded towards the co-pilot standing outside the helicopter. He saluted and opened the side hatch, waiting patiently for them to get in before he slammed it shut and got into his seat in the cockpit. Spencer sat on one of the benches at the far side of the cabin nearest to the window, Laura seated across from him on the chair behind the pilot, the sounds of the helicopter reduced to a dull humming sound, like a swarm of bumble-bees.

He thought briefly about what would happen soon. He knew that he had to...'retire' Marcus earlier than expected and have his research passed on to the capable and obedient ones, such as Wesker and Birkin, but he still needed to be careful. He had to make it seem like that he had confronted Marcus with evidence of his crimes and sealed him away on the Rockfort Island Prison Facility that Alexander Ashford had loaned to them, so that the higher-ups will be glad that the matter was resolved.

But if it was made out that he had Marcus killed, that would create a much greater problem for him, and his career and life would up like Marcus' would soon, expendable. As the board had seen, Marcus was now planning to take down Spencer by creating a greater power with the T-Virus to fight him with. If they were to find out that Marcus was killed, the board would immediately link it to Spencer because of Marcus' plans to take him out of power and say he did it out of paranoia, similar to Marcus with his work. And the board all had their own sectors in Umbrella, their own influence in the hierarchy, their power and control to utilizise to protect themselves, as they would come to believe that Spencer would kill them next and have him taken out first.

It was a dangerous game Spencer was playing and he had to make sure every move was thoroughly thought through, otherwise everything would come crashing down on him like a tonne of bricks.

This was an important step in Spencer's career and he had to make sure it went perfectly. Because if it didn't, the ramifications would haunt him for the rest of his life...

_It's almost ready. The power to take down the Tyrant of Umbrella's hierarchy is almost finished. With my precious leeches and the awesome might of the T-Virus, I will take down Spencer for good and then the work will belong to me. Your king is exposed, Oswell, and I move in for the kill with my queen. Checkmate!_

Marcus felt ecstatic and giddy with anticipation as he watched the results continue to pile in from the computer scans, notes written down and experiments conducted, all of them showing positive results that the leeches were growing stronger, stronger than any other bio-weapon that they had created in years.

Their growing in power had been evident over the past few weeks, with the way they behaved, attacked, fed and lived with each other had changed altogether. It was all down to the fact that the leeches had developed something that the other bio-weapons couldn't ever have when they were infected with the Progenitor, the leeches had been bestowed with the gift of intelligence and sentient thought, which was amazing considering that, as the T-Virus was made from the Progenitor itself, the infection of the brain should have killed of higher-brain cells as the mutations would kill of the cells whilst changing the DNA in the nucleus.

But somehow, the leeches higher-brain function had increased to a humanoid level instead of decreasing to a violent, enraged, primal state.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled, his thoughts going over everything that had occurred in the experiment. At first, when he started the experiments, all the leeches had done was constantly eat everything he gave them as their appetite had become extremely ravenous due to the mutations that they had undergone such as the increase in size, teeth having elongated and an eye developing on their backs. But their appetite had gone to such high extremes that Marcus had some trouble keeping his food supply quantible enough to keep feeding them and they had resorted to cannibalism.

Marcus had managed to get the supply back up and running but two of the leeches had already been eaten. The problem was that Spencer had cut his supply down to a short number of rodents being permitted to him for his experiments, but he had managed to persuade the Specimen Holding Staff to double the amount he could have and he soon managed to keep up with the leeches appetite.

Although, there was another incident in which, surprisingly enough, that he had lost half of the leeches.

Some of the rodents he had been given a bundle of huge sewer rats, huge and overweight ones, and he had placed them all in the tank to feed the leeches, deciding to feed them all the rats as to quench their hunger briefly. But the rats had been very vicious and bloodthirsty, thus a nasty feud had sparked between them and the leeches, resulting in all the rats being eaten and half of the leeches having been killed, thanks to the rats group attack behaviour.

He had decided to put the experiment on hold after that, one to give the leeches a chance to replenish their numbers, and two so that he could get some rest after having a complete shock from that incident. He had never the rats to be able to kill so many of the leeches, after all since the leeches had been significantly enhancedd through continuous mutation and reproduction-cellular-bonding between the virus and the leeches DNA. And the rats were just common, ordinary sewer rats that Umbrella had secured from the New York sewer system, as some of the sewage workers were on Umbrella's payroll at the moment.

But the leeches began to show of their newly-obtained intellect a few days after. Somehow, they had managed to learn something from the rats attack against them, as they soon began to attack in groups; at first, they attacked individually one after the other, as if in a hurrying queue to get the last remaining item on the big trend in a mall. Yet now they showed planning, an ability to learn from experience as they soon started to attack in a group fashion. They now swarmed over their prey in a large group of ten-twenty leeches each, constantly retreating in case of any dangerous attack and counter-attacking by swarming over them again, killing them quickly by mainly focusing on borrowing inside their prey and feasting on their internal organs.

Birds also provided a valuable lesson to them. Since birds could fly, it took the leeches to eat it because the bird kept flying around the tank to avoid the leeches, which it did so effortlessly, to Marcus' chargin. But soon, one of the leeches had managed to jump at the bird, pushing itself of the wall in a quick burst of motion, and the others had quickly adapted and learned this method, thus they managed to down and consume the bird.

Now, his leeches could fully devour a fully-grown animal in under ten seconds, give or take a few extra seconds depending on how big the animal was.

But with a human, it took 10-15 minutes to devour it enough for the leeches to kill it.

_I really must thanks those humans for 'assisting' me in my work. I can't take all the credit after all._

A slight smirk appeared on his face at that train of thought. Ever since he had began feeding live human specimens to the leeches, their rate of growth, mutation and reproduction had dramatically increased, surpassing all of Marcus' expectations. The leeches were now able to produce double their numbers in just under an hour and had now ceased cannibalism, as if having eaten the human specimens had somehow taught them that eating ones own kind was wrong in every possible sense, though he deduced it to be another example of evolution in their behavior, in which was becoming more group-oriented.

This behavior had increased further to such a large extent that they began to show group behavior in everything they did, even when not feeding. They moved around as a collective, each and every one of them was now part of a small group that coincided with the other groups in sharing their habitat equally amongst themselves, sliding across the glass in their smalls group, none of the leeches ever breaking away from each other to be on their own. They never showed any hint of hostility towards themselves, only cooperation and unification displayed as a whole amongst them, and any hint of individuality was, quite literally, erased from their behavior.

In addition, along with their behavior change, their attitude towards Marcus seemed to change. The leeches were now constantly watching him, waiting for him to say something for them to do, staring at him from behind the glass with an emotion of affection and love that children displayed to their parents. They always cooed at him when he entered the lab to begin his work, seeming to greet him every morning before he would work with them.

_I can't say I work 'on' them. To me, they are no longer just some pointless specimens, they are my most precious helpers. I could never treat them as something to maim and discard like a killer would treat his victims._

Despite the fact that the leeches displaying emotions towards him was shocking indeed, since they were supposed to be simple organisms that were unable to show any hint of human emotions, he found it more shocking that he was returning their emotions with equal affection. He knew that he had began to see them differently ever since he had began working with them to find a way of destroying Spencer, but he had never once thought that it had to be something deeper than just looking after his work.

He had usually thought that the only reason to protect them was because that they were infected with the Tyrant-Virus, his life's greatest achievement, and if they were caught, Spencer would have the virus taken from their bodies and everything Marcus had worked for would be lost. But his views had been altered into something else, something...different.

He had made them what they are, had infected them with the Progenitor, had started their first experiment together decades ago, had always referred back to them with any results he obtained, had raised them from their simple, ordinary existence into something far greater than anything in existence.

He had become, and was still, the only family they possessed aside from each other.

_Family. That's what they are, my family. My precious children._

Marcus closed his eyes and smiled in the most purest of joy, tears of happiness rolling down his face. Being the certifiable genius that he was and having served in WWII with the American Army, he had rarely been given a chance to spend some real 'family time' with his parents, always staying focused on his work and forsaking them, letting become simple objects in a background like wallpaper and lights. And although he had made numerous promises, to himself and his parents, to spend quality time with them, he never received the chance.

They had both been killed at Pearl Harbor. His father was the leading doctor at one of the hospitals, along with his mother as the Head Nurse, and they had been responsible for trying to treat as many of the injured as they could. Until a Japanese bomber had dropped its payload on the hospital and blew it to a pile of rubble, everyone in and near the building reported killed by the blast.

After that, he was alone. Even when Spencer, him and Ashford had become so-called 'friends', he was still alone. Because Spencer only cared about himself and Ashford, although he and Marcus got along well together, was under Spencer's thumb. But Marcus had gotten used it and had coped with the pangs of loneliness that echoed in his mind, ignoring them whenever they occurred and forcing himself to become enthralled in his work.

But the feelings were always there, lurking beneath his feigned perfect lifestyle that he had adopted, the worm chewing through the apple.

Now though, he had a new family, a greater family that he adored above everything else to spend time with and a second chance to have what was denied to him. They were the children and he was the father. They showed him nothing but love and affection, always obedient and willing to do whatever he told to do. And in return, he would show them the same love and affection they gave him, and he would protect them from those who would mistreat them and diminish them, such as Spencer.

Marcus' smile vanished and his face immediately turned into a vicious, enraged scowl, his hands gripping his desk so hard that his fingers ached from the strain. He knew that Spencer was now going to come and kill, taking whatever he could use from Marcus' work in the process, such as the leeches. Marcus had been aware of the risks of abducting live human specimens for his work would have caught Spencer's attention and give enough reason to have him 'removed' from his position. But he had come so far and if Spencer thought that he could fuck him over like everyone else who worked for him, claiming possession of his leeches and use them in whatever way he wanted them to, then he would have to think again.

_I made this new virus! It belongs to me and my precious leeches!! Spencer didn't make it, he had no part in it! HE HAS NO RIGHT!!!_

His thoughts were soon jarred from his head as he heard the sound of thickly-clotted water running and the leeches calling for him with a soft, cooing sound. He turned around to see what they were doing and his eyes widened in shock, his entire body going rigid and his mind black as he gazed at the sight before him.

The leeches inside the tank had all formed together, becoming a great, large mass of moving black creatures. As more and more leeches joined with the growing pile, it began to grow and take shape into a bipedal form. The leeches grew to Marcus' exact height, crawling over each other and sticking themselves together by hardening the slime between each of them, forming a towering misshapen form. Then the lower half of the mass split in half, becoming what looked like legs and a waist to hold up the upper-half of the form; the leeches then began to form what looked like arms and shoulders, the hands at the end looking like clubs that Stone Age men would make from rocks and sticks.

It then began to grow a neck and a head, making the leeches form look vaguely human in resemblance. But, the leeches soon began to change their looks, their skin changing color and texture, changing into what looked like a suit, tie and everything that one would find on a suit.

But the most amazing part about the leeches transformation was the face, it was an exact copy of Marcus himself.

The leeches had become a mimicry of their father.

Marcus stepped forward in wonderment and ecstacy at the sight of his leeches. Somehow, they had learned the ability of camouflage, allowing them to blend into their surroundings to make them invisible, as a chameleon would, but they had managed to adapt it to such an extent that they could transform themselves into the resemblance of a living human being.

_And they see me as their father._

Marcus knew that this was the prove that the leeches were his children, his own children, who would obey his every command to the letter, who would help him cast aside their enemies like civilizations at the sands of time. He know had in his the power he needed to crush Spencer and finally ensure that he, his work and his leeches would remain safe from that ignorant, bigoted, mindless, old fool.

He stumbled back to the desk, swaggering in his footsteps as he couldn't focus on moving his body well, his mind being wrapped in anticipation, joy and triumph. Everything he had worked for had finally, _finally_, reached its climax and all he needed to do was play the final move to win this game that he had been playing with Spencer for decades. Though he had to perform some final tests as to ascertain that his leeches were really ready to begin this undertaking because rushing through this would be very dangerous and could result in an ultimate failure, leaving him wide open to be killed.

_It doesn't matter, everything will soon be ready._

He picked an piece of paper from the desk and stared at the Umbrella logo printed on it with a sneer of evil delight on his face.

_Spencer, my former and foolish compatriot, you have made a grave mistake in assuming that I was forever in your employment._

He picked up a scalpel.

_And assumptions are the 'mother of all fuck-ups' so to speak. So, you have just fucked up._

He plunged it deep into the logo.

_Big time._

He immediately threw his head and let out a long, insane cackle. Everything was now going the way it wanted it to and now, Spencer would fall and he would win the game with a brilliantly played out 'checkmate'.

But Marcus had already made a mistake, thus he had already lost to Spencer. He had failed to realize the lesson behind the saying he had placed on Spencer and how significant it would be to him. He had believed that both his most brilliant disciples were answering to him and him alone, remaining loyal to him throughout his work in making sure that it was kept out of Spencer's hands.

And now, he would come to realize that he had thought wrong of Wesker and Birkin.

Dead wrong...

**Sorry for the late update! So much to do with college work and personal life!**

**I hope this chapter explains things well for everyone and that it is as good as the rest. Wanted to make sure I explained everything so that it made sense.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing this far!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 26!!!**


	26. Chapter 26

Twenty Six

June 18th. The summer sun shone brightly down upon the small Mid-Western town that was Raccoon City, displaying the promise of a nice, clear, warm day that people could go out and enjoy. Most of the people had taken to going into the local park or the nearby forest to have a family picnic, parents watching with love and affection as their kids played games such as hide-and-seek and tag around the trees that swayed in the summer winds.

Although, there were some people who could not take the time to enjoy this fine, beautiful day because they had important work that could not be stopped at any point. Half, such as the R.P.D, were busy helping to keep the law and order in check, working for the good of one's fellow man and to ensure a brighter tomorrow . Whilst the other half were involved in work that bordered on the most purest of evil, working for no one but themselves in an insane lust of power, working on something that neither any law nor order could ever except, creating hideous monsters on a factory line to sell as weapons of slaughter.

Some examples of these individuals involved in the darker side of our world were currently inside the Spencer Estate in the Arklay Mountain Region.

Albert Wesker sat in one of the small chairs outside Spencer's office, waiting patiently for the secretary to allow them to enter for the meeting. He had woke up early to have a shower and a short breakfast, to get dressed in a simple buttoned-up shirt, black trouser and turtle-neck sweater with matching loafers, his trademark sunglasses neatly perched on his nose, and his lab coat cleaned and ironed, so he was now ready for the meeting.

Punctuality was one of Wesker's strong points as it showed others how much of a practical man he was, never being late and arriving only a few minutes before the time his presence was required, making sure to have every point all thought over and covered upon in his mind that the meeting would be concerned about on. And he always made sure that he was well refreshed and looked appropriate because personnel apparel as well as fore-thought of knowledge played a significant role in meetings with high-ranking personnel.

_And this is quite possibly the most important meeting I have attended in my entire life. So punctuality, knowledge and personnel appearances will be important._

It was most definitely an important meeting today, but there would be others of even more importance later on in his life, so there was the most important for him so far. After all, he was having a face-to-face meeting, for the first time, with one of the most powerful men on the planet and one of the three founders of Umbrella, Lord Oswell E. Spencer.

Wesker had never seen Spencer ever in his entire time working with Umbrella and had summarized what his personality was from previous knowledge of powerful people, such as Spencer. And from what he knew of people like Spencer, they always judged and fully analysed what a person was like from their first impressions, so you had to make a good impression on them if you were to make it far in your career. In addition, Spencer would already have an idea of what Wesker and Birkin were like from the updates on their work that they had been sending to him and any reports that the staff had wrote about on them.

_All one has to do is speak only when spoken too, answer in full detail if necessary and try to remain calm. Though Birkin's nerves have already reached their highest point._

Whereas Wesker was as calm and collected as ever, not showing any hint that he was worried about the meeting, Birkin was literally shaking with fear and dread, his face pale and drenched in a cold sweat that he constantly wiped off on his lab coat sleeve, his fingers ceaselessly fidgeting.

Obviously, Birkin wasn't really experienced in meeting with powerful individuals such as Spencer and rarely ever spoke to other people at all, making his social skills quite inept. His expertise was more on ordering others around in the workplace, taking notes and staring at things under a microscope, never going to meet with people or engage in chit-chat with others. Which made him more reliant on Wesker now in this meeting, as he would need someone to make sure that he didn't foul up at any time.

Birkin turned to face Wesker after having drank his sixth cup of coffee to calm his nerves. He had always drunk large amounts of coffee everyday, either to keep him working or to calm him down under stress, and it had quickly become his one other addiction besides his work. Wesker's face flashed a quick grin that Birkin didn't see, thinking about how right he was on that one time when he said that the coffee was making him paranod.

"I am really not liking this, Wesker. Not one bit," Birkin complained, clutching his cup for dear life.

Wesker sighed and looked at him over the top of his sunglasses. "You have no need to worry. Just keep quiet, speak only when spoken to, answer in detail if necessary and don't say anything that you know would incriminate us," he explained.

Birkin raised an eyebrow inquistively at Wesker and stared at him. "How are you so calm?" he asked simply.

Wesker shrugged his shoulders in response. "I just have more experience than you in this type of thing. Once you have done it a number of times, you get used to it," he answered.

Whatever Birkin was to say in response was cut off as the door to Spencer's office opened and Laura, Spencer's secretary, stepped outside.

"Doctors Wesker and Birkin, Lord Spencer is ready for you," she announced, stepping aside for them to get past.

Wesker and Birkin stepped through into a small office with a large mahogany desk at the wall opposite the door, a huge leather chair behind it and two windows that gave a fantastic view of the woods outside. A small cabinet sat on the left of the desk, a lamp perched on its top and switched on to provide some light to the room as the sun began to set below the horizon. Two bookshelves stood either side of the door, each filled to the brim with scientific textbooks.

Lord Oswell E. Spencer sat behind his desk in the comfortable chair, facing directly towards Wesker and Birkin, his cold blue eyes staring at them above his thin wire-rimmed glasses, long silver hair flowing down his shoulders, small bangs framing his stony expressionless face, a cigar held between his interlocked fingers, shrouding his face in a slight gray haze.

Spencer brought the cigar to his lips and inhaled. "I trust you know why I called you here," he stated, exhaling the smoke.

Wesker stood still, shwoing no response. Birkin nodded glumly.

Spencer spun around in his chair to face the windows. "The matter concerning James Marcus, your mentor, has begun to show serious and disturbing developments. I requested your presence, as you are his most talented disciples, to discuss this matter," he explained, taking another puff on the cigar.

Birkin moved forward to take a seat in front of the desk, but Wesker stuck out his arm to stop him. Spencer was a man of extreme power and enjoyed nothing more than using it in every aspect of his employees work, so no one did anything without his approval. And for people like Marcus, who do act without his approval, are on the list of people currently on a plane for the Afterlife.

"Do take a seat," Spencer ordered.

Wesker sat in the seat on the left and Birkin sat in the one on the right. Spencer turned the chair around to face them again.

"Lets begin shall we? First of all, when was the last time you saw Dr Marcus?" he asked.

Birkin shuddered slightly under Spencer's intense gaze. "About f-four months and s-seven d-days," Birkin stuttered, his hands visibly shaking.

"And what was your impression of him then?" Spencer questioned, leaning forwards slightly, crushing his cigar in the glass ashtray on his desk.

"He was increasingly paranoid that you were coming to steal his work and was quite obsessed with his work in that he kept trailing of into a daydream, zoning out from the world around him and seemed to be trying to control his rage towards you and the company. He claimed that you had no vision on what the work was really for except as a money-spinning tool, although he was like that when he arrived. And his behavior has worsened over the months, that much is certain," Wesker explained, straightening his sunglasses so that he was hiding his own eyes from Spencer's piercing ones.

"Is that so?" Spencer rhetorically asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Birkin seemed to get more anxious at the stare while Wesker was as calm as ever.

Birkin glanced between Wesker and Spencer. "Did something happen?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence between each and every one of them began to process through their own thoughts on the matter, thinking over what to say about Marcus and his work. Spencer opened his mouth to speak-

-when the phone on his desk suddenly started ringing.

Spencer picked it up and held it to his ear. "Spencer."

As the person on the other side started speaking on the other end, Wesker could see the expression on Spencer's face change to something of shock. Obviously he was hearing something he didn't like one bit.

Spencer clenched his fists and slammed them down on the desk. His face glowed red with anger as he slammed the phone back in its receiver.

"Problems?" Wesker asked, sarcastically.

Spencer glared at Wesker for a few seconds before he pulled out another cigar from his silver case and lit it up, inhaling on it.

"It seems that the developments in this situation with Marcus have reached dire ramifications. At first, he had only used a dozen people. Now he has abducted fifteen people, all of them killed," he explained, standing up and looking out the windows again.

Birkin looked like a deer caught in a speeding car's headlights. "What do you mean, fifteen people killed?" he asked, his voice becoming as tiny as a mouse.

Spencer pulled out a report and slid it across the desk towards them. Wesker picked it up and read through it, taking in all the information printed on its pages. Most of it was about Marcus' behavior up to now, how he acted, what he did in other labs and the facility, what he said to others, his phone conversations, his computer workings that went up to the time he discovered the T-Virus and his vague updates on his work. Wesker knew all of this, having stolen the information from Marcus' lab without him realizing who was doing the snooping, most of it having been downloaded from his computer files and the rest he had seen on his notes after Marcus had asked to meet them in his lab concerning his paranoia over Spencer. Nevertheless, Wesker felt reassured, and no doubt Birkin would too, when he found nothing in the report that suggested so much as a whisper of his actions in Marcus' lab, whether they had prior knowledge of the T-Virus or that they had met with Marcus previously to discuss on protecting Marcus' work.

But what really surprised Wesker was the list of people that the report stated were killed by Marcus in his experiments. Apparently, they had been subjected to an infection by Marcus' new virus and were fed alive to some ravenous swarm of small organisms that he devoured all their internal organs after borrowing into any open part of the body. Having seen Marcus' work first-hand, Wesker knew that the leeches were responsible for the enviscerations, but he hadn't expected any human victims to have been discovered already.

_I guess Marcus has already taken the plunge into insanity. He obviously has crossed the line too far to turn back now._

Wesker handed the report to Birkin and straightened his sunglasses. "What does this mean?" he asked Spencer straightforward.

Spencer took another whiff of the cigar. "Marcus has gone too far. He has forsaken our company for his own gain, hiding valuable research progress from us and has started to act of his own accord. He has made very sure not to tell us much about his work, keeping all the details a secret and this new 'Tyrant-Virus' in his possession. He has taken advantage of his power in acquiring whatever he needs for his work by going over my head. And worse still, he is doing whatever it takes to keep his work going and out of the company's reach," Spencer explained.

Birkin was still reading through the report, his eyes scrolling the words on the paper in lightening speed, listening with half an ear as he continued reading. When he came to the page listing the dead people who were killed by Marcus, he immediately dropped the folder to the floor as his hands started trembling wildly and lost all sense of grip, his eyes going wide as ever and his face as pale as death.

Wesker calmly waited for Spencer to continue, knowing that it was unwise to press him to continue. Doing such a thing would irritate him and the last thing Wesker was to irritate the power that pulled the strings behind Umbrella's inner-machinations.

Spencer turned back to face them again, his face set into a deep scowl. "He has started to abduct people and use them in his experiments, half being locals from Raccoon City and the rest being Umbrella employees from the facility. Now, another fifteen more have been discovered dead and mutilated, all of them Umbrella employees at the Training Facility. If he carries on like this, then there WILL be big problems for us," he informed them, his fists clenched in anger.

Birkin raised an eyebrow incredulously. "How will this affect us?" he asked.

Wesker sighed inwardly and brought his hand up to his head, knowing that Birkin had said something stupid. Spencer sighed in exasperation and sat back in his seat.

"You do realise that at the moment we are extremely short-handed in our science staff and are looking for more suitable candidates to join our corporation. And if Marcus continues on like this, we will be lucky to get any new staff at all. Plus, as you may have gathered, our work and experiment is amoral and illegal in every sense of the word, meaning that we would be facing rather severe punishment for our crimes if this were to get out. But since Marcus has started to kidnap people from the city near the perimeter of the Training Facility and Treatment Plant, the police have started an investigation of the area." Spencer narrowed his eyes. "Now, what would happen, hypothetically speaking, if the police were to find the facility and all the bodies that are stored there for disposal?" he asaked grimly.

Wesker's eyes widened slightly as he realised what Spencer meant. Marcus was doing a lot more than just abducting Umbrella employees and using them in his experiments; he was endangering every one of them. If the police discovered the treatment plant and all the bio-weapons that were being disposed of or transported to other laboratories, they would call in the National Guard and the rest of the R.P.D to quarantine the area. Then they would start to interrogate the staff to find out what was going and once they did, they would be dropped in it.

But if they revealed that Spencer and the pharmaceutical corporation Umbrella were behind it all, the federal agencies would be called in and a man-hunt would be called on to track down and arrest the higher-ups of the corporation. Basically, if Marcus kept on the way he was going, everyone would be dropped neck-deep in shit and there would be no chance of getting out of it.

_Though Spencer has a way of preventing such a situation, hence why we here._

"I suppose you have a way of preventing such a situation?" Wesker asked, saying his thoughts out loud.

Spencer nodded. "As Marcus can no longer be negotiated with about handing over his work and the fact that he is putting us all at risk, in addition to his killing of our future emloyees, he has to be...eliminated," he ordered, crushing his cigar in the tray harshly for emphasis.

Birkin looked stunned beyond measure. "You can't be serious," he retorted.

Spencer glared at him. "I AM serious. There is no other way around this than to have him removed. He has become too much of danger than to just simply let him leave and he has tried my patience for far too long." He turned his gaze towards Wesker. "Which is why I need your assistance in this matter. You are the only ones that Marcus trusts in this corporation, so I need you to help me get close enough to him to 'fire' him and obtain as much of his research as possible," he explained.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked quickly, so as to stop Birkin from saying anything else that would anger Spencer.

"At the end of June 30th, a team of Umbrella Special Forces troops will arrive at 10:p.m. They will be the ones to take out Marcus, but you and Birkin are to help them get inside the lab without detection. Once Marcus is taken care off, his body will be disposed of in the Treatment Plant and you two will have to obtain every ounce of his work to bring back to me. But make sure that no one else knows of this, if anyone found what we were planning, it could cause problems. Most of the higher-ups believe that they can still negotiate with Marcus and are following that train of thought. This remains with us and if you do this right, both of you will take over where he left off, every piece of Marcus' work will be continued under your supervision," he commanded.

Wesker nodded in response and tapped Birkin on the shoulder, informing him to stand. Spencer waved his hand dismissively at them and they walked out the door. They both headed through the halls of the estate towards the heliport, each lost in their own thoughts on what they were required to do about Marcus.

Wesker knew that it was necessary as, unlike the higher-ups, he knew that Marcus was beyond any reasonable thought to be negotiated with. They were grasping on mist, trying to catch a faint hope of a peaceful solution that would make them all satisfied and keep their work safe from public interference. But with the evidence of what Marcus was planning, about his behavior in hoarding his work from the corporation and abducting people to use as specimens, including Umbrella employees, it was obvious what course of action had to be taken.

"I am out of this, Wesker, you are on your own," Birkin exclaimed suddenly, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms.

Wesker glanced over his shoulder at Birkin. "What did you say?" he asked.

"You heard me. I didn't care about the experiments, about the spying, the lying, the risks of getting caught and what would go wrong with this. I was only here for the work and nothing more, but I didn't join Umbrella to commit murder. You want to keep going, do it yourself. I will have no part in this," Birkin declared, staring Wesker full in the face.

The silence between them was full of tension and suspence as they both thought of what the other would do after that conversation. Wesker was the first to make a move after a few moments, reaching up to take his sunglasses off and revealing his cold, calculating eyes towards Birkin. When Wesker had started his career with Umbrella, his eyes had been everything that a child would possess, filled with an innocent, friendly and care-free attitude. But now his eyes had begun to reflect his real personality, cold, calculating, hardened and sensible.

Birkin began to shake visibly from Wesker's harsh glare, his composure failing him as he began to feel afraid of the hard cobalt eyes that never left his. He backed up a bit, trying to put some distance between them-

-and was grabbed by his collar and slammed into the wall behind, his sweaty, slippery fingers failing to grasp Wesker's steel grip in an attempt of escape.

Wesker glared at him in full-force, knowing that he had to make sure that Birkin understood what was happening, that he had no turning back or way out from the situation, that he was stuck with it (and its consequences) for here on afterwards.

"Listen to me, William. And listen well. When you signed up with me, there was no going out of it, no exits, no excuses, no exceptions. You and I are in this far too deep to pull out now and it is foolish to think that you can just take an emergency exit out of our partnership," Wesker said, his voice filled with a hint of anger.

"B-But, I...I n...never-" Birkin stammered, still struggling out of Wesker's grip.

"I know this isn't what you expected but you have no choice except to accept it and follow orders. Or else we are both going to end up dead. Either by Marcus for realizing that we betrayed him or by Spencer if we even think about leaving. We have no choice here so we have to do it, despite our disagreements," he explained.

A few more moments of silence passed before Birkin sighed in resignation and nodded. Wesker kept his face as empty as ever, showing no hint of emotion, though inside he felt a sense of accomplishment; placading William Birkin from a decision he had made was a difficult task because he was tremendously stubborn. But Wesker knew that he couldn't avoid the truth of the situation as much as he wanted and had to accept what was thrown his way.

Wesker let go of Birkin's collar and went back to walking through the estate halls to the heiport, Birkin trailing behind like a wayward pup. The guards and other scientists ignored them as they went about on their own business, oblivious to everything else around them. Wesker was glad that that was the case because he very little desire to engage in small talk with others that didn't concern, considering what would be happening near the end of the month.

As they reached the heliport and stepped into the helicopter, Birkin ooked towards Wesker with a serious expression on his face.

"Since we are getting Marcus' research after he is 'gone', what do you suppose is our first step in using it?" he asked.

Wesker rubbed his chin in thought. He had never really dwelled on the subject on what to do with the T-Virus, having being focused on the current task of continuing their own work on the Progenitor at the moment and assisting in Marcus' assassination when it was time. He knew that the T-Virus was far more interesting to work on, able to open up new theories, paths, results and ideas that the Progenitor itself lacked greatly in contrast. With something like the T-Virus to work on, the bio-weapons that they had created so far would be cuddly toys compared to what they could produce from the T-Virus' superior genetic structure.

_But lets not get ahead of ourselves. One step at a time, jumping ahead leads to trouble and that's all we need now, more troube._

"It doesn't matter now. Let us focus on what we are currently doing with the Progenitor and wait for Spencer's orders. It's best that we show no sign of any prior knowledge that something new is occuring, especially with Marcus' current state," he answered simply.

Birkin just nodded in response and stared out the hatch window, deciding to drop the conversation and lose himself in his own thoughts. Wesker, on the other hand, began to plan ahead on how the next few days would progress, how Marcus' assassination would work and what they would do with the T-Virus once it was handed to them.

Wesker had always been the planner, nothing he did was without reason or preparation, no aspect of life hadn't been thought over to the slightest detail and no surprises had ever appeared from a lack of planning. Planning ahead was one of Wesker's most notable traits as he was like that, calculating, calculating everything that was a concern to him.

Because if he didn't plan everything ahead like he always did, it meant that there would be too many faults and problems involved, which was a clear indication of being sloppy. And if there was one of the many things that never came 1000 miles close to Wesker, it was being sloppy.

The helicopter took off from the estate grounds and headed towards the Training Facility, the occupants inside waiting to return to their workplace and continue their current research, anxiously awaiting the critcal event that would be happening once the month ended...

June 30th 1978, 10:00:12 p.m.

A helicopter silently flew onto the Training Facility's grounds, its rotor blades silent in the still night, the moon hidden behind clouds so that its rays of light couldn't reveal its position above the church. It slowly lowered to the ground.

10:00:59

The hatch doors opened and four ropes were tossed out, two out of each side, and one soldier rappelled down each rope, each carrying MP5 submachine guns, silenced 9mm Berettas and two flashbangs. Dressed in black combat shirts, pants, Kevlar vest and boots, with blacavas and caps over their heads, they hit the courtyard path with barely audible thuds.

10:01:18

The soldiers round the church to the elevator that led down into the Marcus' laboratories, where Wesker and Birkin were waiting patiently, each of them silent and grim-faced for the task ahead. The soldiers offered a quick salute and awaited their orders. Wesker reached behind and pushed a small button set into a stone column built into the church walls, causing a part of the wall to rise up and reveal the elevtor doors. Birkin tapped in the code for the doors on the keypad lock, the doors sliding open with a loud hiss.

10:02:24

The soldiers and the two scientists stepped inside, the elevator heading for the labs. Once the lift stopped, two soldiers stepped outside the lift and glanced down each direction of the corridor, guns raised; nothing could be seen down both ends of the hall and they nodded to the others that it was clear. Two soldiers remained behind at the elevator doors whilst the other two, Wesker and Birkin headed down the hall.

10:03:01

The soldiers stood at the ready in front of the double doors to Marcus' lab, Wesker and Birkin inserting the passcodes to open the doors...

_Why didn't I see this in the beginning? Why didn't I notice the similarities? It all makes sense._

Marcus gently stuck the syringe into the Queen Leech, withdrawing some of her DNA to look at under the nearby microscope. This single leech was the leader of all the others, the pinnacle of his newly-found power, the lynch pin of the tow points, the culmination of his work.

_The children treat me as their father because 'she' tells them to. She is the mind behind the children, their guiding hand, and she has revealed that I am their creator. All this time, they had been preparing for her arrival._

Marcus smiled at the Queen Leech and shoe cooed in response, the leeches offering up their own chorus of cooing in unison towards their father and mother. He enjoyed the comfort of his children being around him, always encouraging him, showing him love and affection, treating him with respect and adoration as he did for them. They knew how important he was to them, how he had created them and gave them their lives, thus they would show their gratitude to him for his caring by heping him destroy Spencer.

_Don't worry, my young ones. Once Her Majesty is well and ready,we can begin._

He stared at the Queen in amazement and awe as he had when the leeches had first revealed her existence. He knew that he should have noticed that this was happening ages ago, what with the similarities between their behavior and that of other insects, such as ants or bees. They had similar behavior as the leeches because they operated on the same mentality: they ate large amounts of food to use on producing their queen, attacked in swarms, moved as a collective, showed no individuality and only obeyed the heads of the hive. For that was how they opearted, as a hive.

He had found out about the Queen after he had used the newest batch of human specimens in his experiments on the leeches efficiency in combat. It had started out as an experiment to see how well the leeches would act when dealing with humans in different circumstances, such as when the humans were missing limbs, being drowned, impaled or burnt.

Hence why he had one area of the Training Facility converted into an 'experimental chamber' with all the necessary equipment and tools he needed for such experiments; well with a suspended cage, chains, hooks, surgery tables, spikes, torches and other various tools.

He used fifteen Umbrella employees for the experiment, having acquired them by luring them to the room and knocking them out with a powerful sedative. Once that was accomplished, he proceeded with 'preparing' the specimens by either restraining them to one of the tables and removing a limb, placing them in the cage and submerging them in the well or chaining them to a chair and setting them on fire.

He had learned some valuable lessons from those experiments. Such as when a human specimen is missing a limb, the leeches would crawl over to the stump of the missing limb and burrow inside the wound, spreading throughout the body's internal structure from there. When a specimen was underwater, they swarmed into the water and devoured the person in a couple of minutes, having to learn how to swim for their first time.

However, if the person was on fire, the leeches couldn't approach. When the leeches had tried to approach, the slime on their bodies that they secreted whereever they went was combustible and if a fire caught onto the slime, the slime would be set alight and the leeches would burn. The leeches showed an immense fear of fire and did whatever they could to avoid it.

Much like they would do with sunlight. Marcus, having worked on the Progenitor from the beginning, knew that the Progenitor was photo-sensitive and could be destroyed, meaning that since the leeches had a thin external membrane, the UV radiation could pass through their skin and burn them alive as their cells woud be destroyed.

_But I won't take them anywhere near sunlight. I'll think of a way to transport them safely._

The Queen Leech herself had been born after that experiment, due to a Royal egg having been laid inside the box that he had used to carry the leeches. At first, he had wondered what it was, taking samples of the eggs structure and juices to determine what it was for.

It had taken several weeks for the egg to hatch. And when it did, a marvel was born.

He had been surprised and amazed by her, by the fact that she was born right in front of his eyes, that she was now in existence at all since he had never expected such a thing to occur. And he was even more surprised by how she co-ordinated and controlled the leeches, acting like a teacher, mother and leader to them, as all queens of a hive did. But the most astounding and incredible thing of all was that she had taught them how to use their camouflage ability to its full extent.

She had taught, from observing Marcus' actions, how to walk, run, jump and perform hand gestures as a human could. She was teaching them how to appear more human, Although there was trouble in using that, due to the fact that the mimicries were made by large groups joined together and that they had no skeleton to hold them upright, making them wobble and stagger everywhere they went. But it was still a brilliant outcome overall with the whole experiment.

_And now, after all those long years of working, of coping with the inane prattle of greedy politicians, of coping with the stress and strain from Spencer, I can claim my well-deserved rewards for my work. I wi-_

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doors being kicked open. He spun around to face the doors and-

_No!!_

-gasped in shock as he saw two armed soldiers barge into his lab and point machineguns at him. He barely had enough time to draw the pistol from his jacket before they opened fire, peppering his torso with bullets, causing him to stumble back from the sheer amount of bullets that tore through his clothes and punched through his skin. He felt ribs shatter, lungs explode, muscles tear open, his heart being punctured and his stomach burst open, its acidic contents spilling throughout his internal organs.

He reached out towards the samples of the T-Virus that were being shattered by the rounds being sprayed around the lab, his eyes wide in shock as he watched his work being destroyed before his eyes. The leeches shrieked in grief and horror as they watched their father and creator being blown to pieces from the attack, the Queen's shriek seeming to ring out the loudest. He spun around the room, feeling dizzy and lightheaded from the bloodloss, and collapsed onto the hard metal floor. He feebly reached up with his thin, wizened hand to grab hold of the table and pull himself up, but had lost all of his strength from his wounds and let his arm fall to his side, the Queen Leech dropping down on the floor to crawl towards him.

He looked up at the soldiers from his place on the floor amongst a pool of his own blood, watching as they looked behind them at someone and stood to attention at either side of the room, saluting. The doors opened again and-

_What!?! This can't be!!!_

-his protegee students Albert Wesker and William Birkin strolled into the room, talking breifly with the soldiers before they walked over to Marcus and looked down on him with a smug smile on each of their faces.

Wesker bent down to look at Marcus closer. "Ah, time to die, Doctor," he stated, his sunglasses hiding his cold eyes.

Birkin nodded and bent down as well. "Don't worry." He pointed a finger into his chest. "I will take over your research," he informed Marcus mockingly.

Marcus' eyes widened in disbelief as he came to realize that it was them, THEM, all along who were playing him for a fool, sneaking into his lab and stealing his work to give to their new boss, Spencer. And they had now not only come to kill him, but to rub his nose in the dirt by telling him that his work was being stolen from him.

"W...Wesker...B...Birkin..." he cried out, his voice choking on the blood in his throat.

But the pain soon began to fade away, as did his vision and mind, fade into the darkness. And the last thing he saw before his vision went black, his mind died out and his breath took in another breath, was his traitorous disciples standing over him with those ever-present smug smiles...

**Apologies for the late update. Revising for my exams.**

**I hope you like this chapter as it is an important part of the story and that it is still true to the game.**

**Since this will go into Wesker and Birkin's future with the T-Virus, I will soon have to write about William/Annette's romance and I have no experinece in writing romance pieces, so any help would be appreciated. Thanks!**

**Up next, chapter twenty seven!!**


	27. Chapter 27

Twenty Seven

Birkin found himself extremely uncomfortable sitting in the simple wooden chair inside the second floor conference room of the Training Facility. It wasn't so much as his body aching from beinf sat on the chair but from the fact of who he was meeting with. Wesker sat at the other side of the table, his sunglasses ever present on his face, arms folded over his chest, his face as calm and collected as ever. And Lord Spencer stood in front of the table, gazing into the fiercely glowing flames under the stone mantelpiece, not saying a word for over fifteen minutes.

Birkin began to wonder why another meeting had been called and the only thing he could was that it was about what was going to happen now that Marcus was dead. After all, having just killed of the only other founder of the corporation, Spencer now had complete and total control over Umbrella, all of its assests, wealth, work and employees now under his influence. And that was a lot now under his possession, so he had to consider what to do with it all in helping to expand Umbrella's and his own power.

_I just hope he allows me to work on the T-Virus in some of my own projects._

That was the sole reason he had gone through the murder of James Marcus, despite his guilt and counscious. He had been driven by the opportunity to work on something new, something greater, an entirely new virus, superior to the Progenitor with much untapped potential and more promising prospects to work on. Birkin found Marcus' work on the leeches too dull and had no intention of continuing something that he knew nothing about, despite reading through Marcus' notes.

What he wanted was to work on his own projects using the T-Virus, to see if he could improve it further and use it to upgrade their current B.O.W arsenal tenfold. After all, the Progenitor couldn't bestow intelligence or sentient thinking into any of its hosts that it infected, but Marcus' T-Virus seemed to give its hosts intelligence if applied properly to the host, his prime example being the leeches that he had worked for a decade.

_Too bad he didn't ind out about how to use the virus in giving our B.O.Ws intellect. All he was focused on was his leeches and killing Spencer._

Birkin shuddered slightly at the word 'killing' as he had done his fair share of that. And he, to his fear and shock, had been completely satisfied and pleased that Marcus had died the way he did, that he had mocked him on his final breath, ensuring that he realized his work and legacy now belonged to Birkin. That he and everything he accomplished was credited to Birkin.

Which was true, thanks to Spencer's influence. Ever since then, he had received endless praise, congratulations and admirations from the other scientists for the creation as its 'official creator'. Birkin felt an overwhelming sense of pride sweep over him as he thought over the accomodations that he had received from the higher-ups on the board. They said that he was an exemplary employee to them, one with a great future and a vast intellect to match, most all saying how amazed they were that since he was 15 going on 16, that he had actually managed to create something as impressive and mould-breaking as the T-Virus at such a young age in his life and an early stage in his career.

"Feeling proud of your current accomplishments, William?" Spencer asked out of the blue.

Birkin looked surprised for a few moments before he dismissed it as an ordinary incident. Being as powerful a man as he was in the world, it should be no shock that he knew how to read people's expressions.

"Yes, very much thank you," he answered simply.

Spencer smiled. "I guess that you are satisfied with the way things turned out." He shifted his gaze to Wesker. "And you, Wesker?"

Wesker tapped his fingers against his arms in a slight rhythym before answering, "Just as long as there are no more problems or repercussions of this incident, I am satisfied. But you didn't call us here about that, did you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow questionally.

Spencer's smile vanished and he took his seat at the head of the table, pulling out his cigar case and taking out a cigar, placing it between his lips and lighting it up. Birkin had never actually seen Spencer without a cigar ever when he met with the man face-to-face, never once seeing him without a cancer stick stuck between his lips, smoking drifting up to the ceiling, the combined smell of nicotine, ash, tar and carbon-monoxide blending into the room. Seeing Spencer without a cigar would be like Wesker without his sunglasses, a missing personality trait.

"I have decided to close down the training facility," he responded bluntly, exhaling the cigar smoke.

Birkin felt like he had just heard an extremely immature practical joke that he didn't find particularly funny in the slightest. He had done much work on the Progenitor inside the laboratories under the Training Facility, work that it had taken him days, weeks and months to complete, work that at least provided some details on what they should improve in their B.O.Ws. It was important, even if the T-Virus took precedence over it, because it showed the flaws in their current stock and how they should work on them to improve them. And now Spencer was closing down the labs and getting rid of what work they had to start with, making them lose valuable research data.

"But why!?!" Birkin exclaimed, standing up from his seat. "All of our work is there, we need to continue it!! What about our work and everything we have accomplished thus far for you!?!" He bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"Calm down, Birkin. Don't let your pride obscure your common sense," Wesker chided, shwoing no reaction whatsoever to the conversation going on.

Birkin glared back at Wesker for the remark but decided to let it slide. There was no point in getting into an argument with Wesker, he knew everything he needed to have the argument work in his favour and he always knew what was best out of any situation, despite Birkin's own thoughts on the matter.

Spencer took another whiff of the cigar. "If your tantrum is over and done with Birkin, I suggest we move on to my reasons for my decision. You see, in response to Marcus' actions during his project and his attitude towards us in attempting to hide his research, I am opening a full investigation into the Training Facility and the nearby treatment plant in order to ascertain every part of the late James Marcus' work. And the bodies of some of his victims will need to be returned to their respective families, if we want the R.P.D to back down," he explained.

Birkin sat back down again. "But what happens to everything here? Our work, the labs, equipment, staff, candidates etc? What happens to them?" he questioned.

"All the equipment and staff will be moved to the laboratories under my estate. The laboratories here will be closed down and emptied, effective immediately. The candidates will be moved to many of the other training facilities we have in the U.S.A. And your work will be stored and transported to my estate facilities, where you will now be assigned to work," he answered fully, crushing the cigar in the glass ashtray.

"You really shouldn't smoke," Birkin said, suddenly. "You could die of cancer."

Spencer chuckled in response as he pulled out another. "It may cause cancer, but that is a more pleasant way of dying. After all, William, you know as well as me and Wesker do that there are far worse things to be infected with," he responded, his tone soaked in amusement.

Wesker tapped his fingers rythymatically against his arm. "What are our positions in your laboratories underneath your estate?" he asked.

"You will be the Chief Consultant Researchers at my laboratories, having control over all staff and equipment, and the freedom to engage in any project that you wish, with my approval, of course," Spencer answered, taking another whiff of the cigar before blowing out the smoke.

Birkin felt relieved to hear that his work was safe and that it would be waiting for him at his new workplace. But he felt even more excited with the news that he was now given the chance to work on anything he wished with the T-Virus. He now could continue on his research in perfecting the B.O.Ws of their flaws with the T-Virus, to see and record how different the T-Virus created B.O.Ws from its predecessor, the Progenitor.

_We'll have to start by perfecting the T-Virus itself, find a way to completely remove all the negative traits of the Progenitor from its genetic structure, such as that photo-sensitivity. Then we will have to start working on the hosts themselves, starting with the reptiles, amphibians, birds and mammals. We should finalize the faults in those types of B.O.Ws before we move onto human experiments._

"Also," Spencer added, brushing his long hair back behind his head, "as you will become the Chief Consultant Researchers at the estate laboratories, there are some things that you will need to know about."

Birkin noticed Wesker's face flash with sudden curiosity. "What secrets?" he asked.

"All in good time," Spencer answered, purposely vague. "Just be patient." He looked at his watch. "Well, I say this meeting has come to a close gentlemen. I shall see at 7a.m. tomorrow morning for you to be taken to my estate to begin your new assignments." And with that, Spencer walked out of the conference room, his cane clacking across the wooden floor in pace with his footsteps, Birkin and Wesker following suit.

Birkin felt thrilled and overwhelmed by the excitement he was feeling at this golden opportunity to expand his work further with the T-Virus as the base substance. He finally had something more promising to work with, something that provided and startling prospects for them to discover, to finalize their B.O.Ws by removing the flaws that the Progenitor itself had given them. More importantly, they now had the power to give their B.O.Ws the ability of intelligence, to be able to understand, interpret and carry out any order given to them, as any weapon of war should do.

"I am going to my quarters and revise the maps of the estate's construction. I suggest you do the same, the estate is quite a large place. You wouldn't want to get lost," Wesker advised as he headed towards the dormitories.

Birkin scoffed and headed over to the laboratories. He would revise the design later, right now he had work to finish. He trailed behind Wesker as he proceeded to his room, once again receiving praise from the other scientists for his achievement of 'creating' the T-Virus, and how he was the youngest and most talented scientist to be accepted into Umbrella. Once he reached his room, he went over to his bookcase and pulled out a textbook on the lastest discoveries made in micro-organisms and viruses, searching for any traits they could use to upgrade the T-Virus.

_Sometimes, it's better to look back if you want to move forward._

Birkin continued to read through every book in his room and work on all of his research notes through the night, taking down anything that could be of use to them and calculating out everything theory and equation that popped into his head, sorting out any anomalies that he found there.

He didn't get to bed until one in the morning and woke up at six to pack up everything he needed to take, making sure that he was ready to leave. When the escort for him came, he followed him over to the heliport and boarded the helicopter that would take him to the Spencer Estate, Wesker already sat inside, waiting patiently for them to leave.

As soon as the hatch door slammed shut and the pilot gave the thumbs-up sign to the control room that they were ready to go, the underground heliport's hatch doors opened, the ceiling splitting open and bright rays of sunlight flooding in that the guards inside had to shield their eyes and the pilot had to put his helmet-visor down to protect his sight from the blinding sunlight.

The helicopter rose out of the heliport and pointed its nose to the south, flying towards the Spencer Estate. The men inside sat silently in the cabin, either lost in their own thoughts, reading through their work or gazing out at the beautiful summer scenery outside, each of them waiting to reach their destination and begin their new assignments.

This was the start of the T-Virus project...

"Helicopter Alpha-258, you are cleared for landing," the radio announced amidst a slight wave of static.

The co-pilot picked up the radio. "Roger that Control. We are coming in for landing," he responded. He turned to the cabin to speak with Wesker and Birkin. "We are currently beginning descent. Just a few more minutes until we land."

Wesker remained silent, waiting for patiently for the helicopter to land. Birkin just nodded, apparently too engrossed in reading the research papers that he had brought along with him to pay attention to anything else.

_This is the start of our new assignment. Lets just hope we have more successes than failures in our new line of work._

The helicopter soon touched down on the concrete heliport with a soft thud, the hatch door sliding open by a guard on the other side. Wesker stood up and stepped out the cabin, tapping Birkin on the shoulder to tell him they had to get off. They proceeded across the heliport towards the elevator, Wesker calmly strolling across and occasionally straightening his sunglasses, Birkin following mindlessly as he was still absorbed in his work.

In front of the elevator stood the Laboratory Manager, a tall dark-haired man with stern features, wearing the traditional clothes of a scientist staff member. Wesker couldn't remember his name and didn't particularly care at the moment because as if right now, he and Birkin were in complete command over the facility, even the manager.

"Good morning gentlemen. Glad to see you are well and ready to begin," he greeted. He then gestured towards the elevator. "Lord Spencer awaits you inside the lab. If you care to step this way."

Wesker and Birkin stepped into the elevator with the Lab manager, the manager pshing the 'down' button. The doors slid shut on their rails and soon the elevator started its descent with a low hum.

Wesker glanced over at the papers Birkin was reading and read what he coud of the page before Birkin turned to the next one. It was the current research documents, experiment notes and recent information on a new and devastating virus that had been discovered in Africa two years ago, the Ebola Virus. Wesker had already read and studied on the Ebola in his spare time, making sure that he was on top of things, and probably knew the same amount of knowledge on the subject as Birkin did.

The Ebola Virus was known to be a zoonotic virus as it was currently killing populations of lowland gorillas in Central Africa. And despite considerable effort by the WHO (World Health Organization), no animal reservoir capable of sustaining the virus between outbreaks has been indentified. However, it has been hypothesized that the most likely candidate is the fruit bat.

Ebola was also lethal in human beings because it caused Ebola hemorrhagic fever, encompassing a range of symptoms including fever, vomiting, diarrhea, generalized pain or malaise, and sometimes internal/external bleeding. Mortality rates are extremely high, with human case-fatality rate ranging from 50-89, according to viral subtype. And the cause of death is usually due to hypovolemic shock or organ failure.

And due to its lethal properties, in addition to the fact that no suitable vaccine or treatment of the virus was available, thousands of people were now working around the clock to study it. But the purpose of studying it was 50/50, due to half wanting to create a cure for it and and the rest to utilizate it as a biological weapon, which had been started upon by the Soviet Union and USA ever since the Cold War started.

In fact, there really was no difference in what people were doing with the Ebola Virus because it was all the same thing; there was no difference in making a cure for it or making it into a biological weapon. No one could have one side of it without the other because one had to make it into a biological weapon to discover a suitable cure for fighting it.

_It is a simple golden, two-sided coin. Without both sides together, it is useless._

Consecutively, there were still faults in the Ebola Virus. One was that it could only spread from host to host via direct injection or physical contact, which presented a considerable disadvantage on its usefullness because it killed its victims so fast that they can't spread it to other hosts. Secondly, it was (like the Progenitor) extremely photo-sensitive and could be instantly destroyed by sunlight, no matter how much. And finally, even if used in nocturnal conditions, it was still limited because it could only survive for a few days on its own, making any outbreak only enough to wipe out a small town or hospital.

_Ironic that, despite beeing photo-sensitive, whether slightly or incredibly, the T-Virus and Progenitor can cause more damage than them._

That at least was true, considering that the viruses each had the ability to resurrect the dead and have the hosts act as bio-weapons to spread the virus farther outwards from the epicenter. And Birkin was only studying the Ebola to see if there was any way they could rid the T-Virus of its slight photo-sensitivity, to make it an even more efficient bio-weapon.

But it was still powerful as it was currently and Wesker should know that, since he and Birkin were placed in charge of the project. The T-Virus itself is built like many viruses, but not all. It comprised of a protein crystal with an RNA core, which contained its mutagenic properties that gave it its ability to change a hosts genetic structure and DNA coding.

Whereas the Progenitor's method of infection was to infect the entire nucleus of the cell and mutate its DNA once it has merged with the nucleus, the T-Virus' mehtod of infections is very different. Once it makes contact with a cell's membrane, it inserts its RNA into the cell. The cell absorbs the viral genome into its own DNA, which takes over the cell's functions. The cell begins to produce offspring of the origina virus, so that they can be released and spread the infection to other cells, which starts the process all over again.

Once that is accomplished, the T-Virus kills and replaces the dead mitochondria ones with a replica of itself, thus it then combines with other cells to produce energy. The energy that is produced is just enough to power the motor neurones and the basic lower brain functions, bypassing the entire circulatory system, which makes the heart and lungs redundant systems that can be disposed of, thus killing the host.

The reanimated host body is then left with the intense need to feed in order to replenish energy supplies without having to sacrifice its own tissue, hence why all hosts sought out to consume other living beings.

However there was a key difference between the Progenitor and the T-Virus human hosts, even though all of them were still, under the only fitting name, a 'zombie'.

When a Progenitor killed its human host and brought it back to life, the person infected had become what would be known as a zombie because of the fact it no longer had a pulse, its skin was deathly-pale, its eyes glazed over in death, no longer breathed, no longer thought and rigor mortis had developed in all of its muscle, causing a severe lapse in motion.

But the T-Virus had all these traits, except the key difference was that it also had a new, unforeseen effect that the Progenitor didn't; it caused necrosis on the human body. This was due to the point that the T-Virus could only properly function by consuming the cell in order to produce its energy and to divide via mitosis to spread throughout the body. This slow breakdown of cells leads to the gradual breakdown of the host, causing necrosis as the virus incorporates itself into the host's DNA, which substantially alters it.

And because mammal DNA was so susceptible to genetic changes, either from natural or artificial causes, these mutations were occurent in every human host it came in contact with, killing them in 24-72 hours, depending on the host's DNA. It was the same for other mammals, cats, dogs, apes, lions, dolphins, all of them had the necrosis trait, giving them their zombie appearance. This was why non-mammal creatures, such as insects and reptiles, only have very minor mutations, such as increased size, when compared to the mammal mutations caused by the virus.

But despite these mutational changes between the two viruses, the behavior they bestowed on all their hosts remained the same. Non-human hosts all behaved the same, due to the virus mutating their brain cells to a certain point that their behavior is altered, making them more aggressive.

In humans, the process was more complicated and varied depending on the host's overall condition. Should the human host be alive at the time of T-Virus infection, all higher brain functions are destroyed. This leaves only the telencephalon, better known as the derebrum, to govern behavior, thus giving the host a very animalistic behavior. As the virus spreads, it damages the hypothalamus; this produces a massive flood of neurotransmitters, enzymes and hormones (e.g. Norepinephrine and dopamine). These effects, combined with the painful symptoms of the infection, induce a psychotic rage, persistent hunger and increased aggressiveness in those infected. Should the human host be dead at the time of infection, only enough energy is produced to power the lower brain functions; these functions are responsible for the most primal instincts, such as walking and eating.

In either case, their late-stage appearance after infection and their altered behavior from the brain damage are characteristics of their name-sake, a zombie.

_Quite a nasty little concution, if the photo-sensitivity can be expelled. And Birkin believes the Ebola holds this knowledge._

Wesker was fully aware that Birkin's current obsession over the files on Ebola was all to benefit the T-Virus project. He was now fully focused on wiping out this photo-sensitivity in the T-Virus' structure and he believed that Ebola held the key to finding this out. After all, since the Ebola was simpler in comparison to the T-Virus, it would be easy to find any gene or allele that caused the discrepancy towards the light and once they had indentified the gene itself, they could find it in the T-Virus and successfully remove it.

The hum of the elevators descent came to a halt and the doors slid open on their rails to reveal a dank, concrete hallway with water pipes lining the roof and trailing around to continue across the roof or line the walls to flow underneath the metal grating floor around the corner.

But both Wesker and Birkin's attention were not focused on the scenery around them but the elderly gentle man in front of him, clutching a cigar in his right hand and a cane in his left, his long silver hair framing his face and his cold, blue gazing at them from behind the siver bangs. Wesker gazed back impassively, showing no emotion to the Umbrella Founder, Birkin still remained locked into reading on the Ebola.

"I trust your journey was pleasant?" Spencer asked, taking another whiff of the cigar.

Wesker shrugged his shoulders in response. "No complaints on my account." He gestured to Birkin. "My co-worker over there is too absorbed in his work to notice anything."

Birkin looked up at Wesker, flashing him a brief glare before he turned to Spencer. "I was just researching on the Ebola Virus and how we could use it in our T-Virus project," Birkin explained.

Spencer rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes, due to their similarities in being killed directly by sunlight. You were obviously hoping to find some way to use it in curing this photo-sensitivity," he stated, turning around to walk down the hall.

Wesker and Birkin followed in tow, Birkin walking up to Spencer's side to discuss the matter further with him. Keeping a few paces behind them, Wesker could overhear the conversation between the two.

"Yes, Mr Spencer. You see, the T-Virus itself offers a whole new range for us to work on in developing B.O.Ws. It is entirely different from the Progenitor and certainly more powerful to behold, possibly making its airborne infection have the potential to wipe out a small village, or a large segment of a capital city. The only problem with it is its photo-sensitivity because if that was no longer a factor, we could have the most powerful virus at our disposal and ready to be used at anytime without fear of prevention or death before any initial outbreak has occurred," Birkin explained fully.

Spencer nodded. "Which is why you wish to have a sample of the Ebola Virus brought here for you to study so that this irritating trait is removed," he finished, dropping his finished cigar on the floor and stomping down on it.

"Exactly. So with your permission-" Birkin started to ask before Spencer held up his hand to silence him.

"Don't worry, William. I was fully aware of this factor and have already had Umbrella Africa deliver a sample to us. You already have a suitable sample of the Ebola for you to work on," Spencer interrupted.

Birkin looked momentarily surprised before he smiled in gratitude that he had everything ready for him to begin his work and went back to reading his notes. Wesker was hardly surprised that Spencer was aware of the photo-sensitivity trait of the T-Virus and that the Ebola had the same problem because Spencer had a scientific background as well as a place in the political world, so he wasn't oblivious to the fact that they could use the Ebola to find a way to remove the photo-sensitivity from the T-Virus. After all, Spencer didn't get this far in creating Umbrella, working on the T-Virus, gaining support from the political structure, acquiring the people they needed and hiding their work from the public by being stupid.

"But right now," Spencer announced, bringing Wesker out of his thoughts, "I have something to show you." A malicious smirk that even Wesker found unnerving spread across his face. "In fact, I think that she and the pair of you will get along well together in your work."

Wesker felt rather uneasy about that look on Spencer' face, the sort of grin that a monster would have when it had found something truly terrible to show its victims before eating them. Whatever it was that Spencer was going to show them, it would most likely not be a pleasant sight to see, especially if it concerns everything that Umbrella was really involved in and that it would play a large part in their work with the T-Virus.

_Remember, now that we are invoved in this, there is no turning back. No excuses, no exceptions. Just follow his commands._

The three men walked through the halls of the lab at a brisk pace, past the guards armed with MP5 machine guns that patrolled the halls, past rooms crammed with scientists who were writing notes, looking down microscopes or performing experiments on any live specimens they had. Any of the scientists or guards who were in their way immediately moved aside and offered either a salute or a nod in their general direction.

Wesker gazed at some of the scientists, surprised by how elderly they looked. All of them were elderly men or men who showed signs of aging, some having completely gray hair and deep set wrinkles whilst others had blonde, brown, blac or red hair that started to gray and wrinkles beginning to appear under his eyes. The guards were obviously younger because they were required to physically healthy in keeping the lab safe, but Wesker had to wonder how long the scientists had been working at the laboratories underneath the estate to look so old.

_They must have been here ever since the estate was built in 1967. Eleven years working underground in an estate owned and lived in by the man who was Umbrella's key player._

Wesker felt slightly impressed that they were able to keep the work at a suitable pace for Spencer, considering their age, but he dismissed the thought soon after. It wasn't much of a surprise that they were able to keep the research when the late James Marcus had proved that, despite their age, they were quite able of keeping the project progressing forward.

Spencer, Wesker and Birkin soon came to a flight of stairs that led into a dank tunnel further underground, water dripping from the ceilings to form small puddles on the concrete ground, giving the hall a ancient, mouldy smell. The only light in the tunnel were the few simple lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling with a few attracted moths flying around them, casting the tunnel in pale circles of light, leaving the corners dark with shadows.

They soon came to a large metal door with four guards standing on either side, weilding what looked like hyped-up cattle prods. They immediately snapped to attention at the sight of Spencer and the two scientists coming towards them.

"Open the door. We wish to see 'her' now," Spencer ordered.

The guards looked at each other nervously before one swallowed hard. "But sir, she hasn't been sedated yet. She is highly dangerous right now. Isn't it unwise to go in there to see 'her' now?" he asked, dread lined in his voice.

Spencer's eyes narrowed. "I believe I gave you an order. Don't push your luck with me just because I am in a good mood," he warned.

The guard back away, his eyes now filled with fear and sweat covering his forehead. He gestured to the others and they began to open the door, typing the codes for the keypad locks and using their sets of keys to open the door. As the door swung open, Spencer and the two scientists stepped inside the small cell, the guards outside looking in to make sure nothing went wrong.

The cell was like those in a criminal prison, 4x4 walls, a dim lightbulb casting very little light on the room, shadows engulfing most of the room in pitch-black darkness except for the various objects placed around the room. A large surgery table stood against the right-hand wall, various tools lay scattered on top, such as syringes, scalpels and tweezers, and straps placed in certain places where a human's hands and feet would go, dried, crusted blood staining the dark brown leather of the straps and gray metal of the table. A wheelchair sat in one corner of the room, straps also where a persons wrists and ankles would be and again dried blood that looked days old was stained into the leather. A computer sat a small office desk placed at the far wall of the room, the screen currently black, with various pieces of paper scattered around it in a disorganized heap. And to their left-

_Mary, Holy Mother of God._

This time, Birkin looked up to see what was inside the room, his eyes widening in horror and disbelief, the papers he was reading slipping from his numbed hands to nestle on the floor. He muttered something under his breath, though whether it was a curse or a praise, Wesker couldn't tell; he was too focused on the hideous figure before him.

A shabby hospital bed stood on the left hand side of the wall, a person, more specifically a young woman, was strapped down to the bed in every possible place the straps could fit, hooked up to an IV monitor positioned next to the bed. She wore a shabby hospital gown that looked as if it had been white some time ago, but was now a dirty brown due to the amount of dirt and dried blood staining the fabric; a white cloth made of similar materia was draped over her face, as if she was too hideous to look at.

"May I introduce you to Lisa, our main specimen here at the Arklay labs. She has been with us for eleven years now and has been the main part of our project here with the Progenitor and willl now be the main one for your T-Virus project," Spencer explained, moving forward to the side of the bed. "She is quite special."

"How do you mean?" Birkin asked, his voice flooded with awe.

Spencer looked over his shoulder at them. "She has been infected with every strain of the Progenitor that we have ever developed. Every strain from every facility that we control across the globe has created at least one strain of the Progenitor for us to use and she has been infected with all of them," Spencer explained.

Wesker stepped closer to Lisa. "You mean she is just a normal human host? There is nothing special about that," he responded, feeling disappointed.

Spencer smiled. "But you miss the point of this secret. She isn't dead," he informed them bluntly.

Birkin's face ost all color and he clutched his chest, as if he thought he was losing oxygen and the ability of respiration. "How can that be!?! ALL humans infected with the Progenitor have been died from it!! There is no possible way such a scenario could happen," he argued, clawing for whatever logic he could find in the conversation.

Spencer's smile vanished. "Despite what you know or believe you know of the Progenitor is non-compatible to this. She is still very much alive, she hasn't died or been resurrected from the strains in her systems and we have yet to uncover why," he explained coldly.

Wesker stepped closer and reached out to remove the cloth from her face, his nerves on high-tension due to his unknowing of what lay hidden underneath. As his fingers curled around the edge of the fabric, a long wail emanated from the restrained woman, causing him to jump back suddenly. He glanced over at Spencer, wanting to know if it was safe and that he was permitted to remove the cloth. And Spencer, reading the expression that had appeared for the only time on Wesker's face, nodded.

Wesker leaned closer again, Birkin stepping up and looking over his shoulder to watch, his gloved fingers grabbing the cloth, the feel of rotten skin felt through the thick leather fabric of his black gloves. He pulled away the cloth and gasped in shock at what he saw, his sunglasses falling from his face to clatter on the floor and his cobalt-blue eyes, now fully revealed, were widened in unbridled horror that consumed his entire body. Birkin gagged and ran out of the room, throwing up the contents of his stomach in the corner of the tunnel.

Lisa's face was most definitely not her own because her's was hidden amongst the many others that covered her entire head. Her head was completely obscured by the amount of faces that were worn over her own, almost like macabre halloween masks that a child hastily put together. They looked very old due to most having begun to decay and peel away from Lisa's head, the faces themselves forever locked in expressions of intense agony and pain. Rotten, black teeth were visible through the masks, fixed in a snarling expression behind broken lips and bleeding gums. And when her eyes peered through the gaps of her face-masks and locked with his own, filled with malicious hatred and bloodthirsty rage, he backed away from her as far as he could before his back touched the opposite wall.

"As you have now seen, she has become quite insane from the infections. She tears of the faces of anyone who comes near and wears them over her own, though I can't figure out why," Spencer stated, kicking the fallen sunglasses over to Wesker.

"Has she killed anyone recently?" he asked, his voice slightly quivering as his composition attempted to subdue his fear.

Spencer shook his head. "No. All the faces she currently wears were from the people she killed eleven years ago, when she had first escaped." He leaned closer to her, a smug smile across his wrinkled face. "Isn't that right, princess?" he asked arrogantly.

Lisa roared and struggled against ths straps, trying in vain to reach up and grab the man standing over her. Spencer just merely laughed in response, seeming to enjoy the spectacle.

Wesker stimbled out of the room, scooping up his fallen sunglasses but didn't want to put them on; he just wanted to leave the two monsters inside the room. One of the guards asked if he was ill like Birkin, but Wesker ignored him completely, his mind numbed with terror.

_That girl, Lisa, what the hell IS she!?! Wait, what the hell is Spencer!?!_

Wesker had no idea which of them was the worse one out of the two in the room, whether it be the girl restrained on the hospital bed or the powerful man standing over her, mocking her. Both were so similar in many ways, both of them insane, powerful, could kill whatver they desired or wanted to without feeling any guilt, remorse, shame, pity, for what they did or who they harmed.

But he soon came to the conclusion that Spencer was the worse one because, unike Lisa, Spencer was free to make his own choices, do whatever he wanted and have no one stop him. Yet Wesker knew the most important difference was that he worked for Spencer, not Lisa, and was fully aware of what the senile old beaurocrat was capable of.

Now, Wesker hoped that the research would accomplish something, managed to lead the project through any obstacle that came around, to take it through every problem efficiently in order to reach its full potential and completion because he knew that he and Birkin had arrived at a place with no possible way out. They were stuck under Spencer's employment for as long as the Umbrella founder saw fit, with no choice except for the two that Spencer had placed before them.

They were relatively simple to understand; either they completed the work or end up like Lisa. And whether he knew or not, something inside both his and Birkin's mind had been changed after seeing Lisa for the first time...

**Hope that I have explained the T-Virus in good detail and so that you can easily understand it. I sometimes waffle on a lot when discussing something I like. And that Birkin and Wesker are still in character.**

**Thanks for reading this far into my story. Please leave a review if you want to and I hope that the story is still enjoyable to read.**

**Stay tuned for chapter XXVIII!!**


	28. Chapter 28

Twenty Eight

July 27th, 1981.

Alexia Ashford, the Ashford's family newest addition to their legacy and a certified child-prodigy due to the genetic experimentation that her father performed to create, graduates from a prestigious university in Great Britain with full qualifications and top grades in each of her science degrees. Umbrella's many divisions race to hire her to work for one of them in order to suprass the others in the competition between them for who can create the greater B.O.Ws. Alexander, refusing to let any of Spencer's men have control over her, requests to the board that she performs her own experiments under his supervision at the Antartic facility, promising that she would update them fully on the progress of her work.

They agree and soon Alexia is working at the Antartic laboratories, with the unwanted supervision of her father and the appreciated devotion from her twin brother, Alfred, the future heir of the family. And in the years to come, Alexia would discover a virus that had laid dormant for centuries in the genes of queen ants and would work on this to create what is now known as the T-Veronica Virus...

Later in the evening on that same day, in the laboratories underneath the Spencer Estate.

Albert Wesker typed up his weekly reports in his office, making sure that he included every aspect of his work in the report and that he had put enough detail in it to satisfy the board. Once he had finished it, he saved it to a floppy disk and put it inside a plain brown envelope, shutting down the computer and left to hand it to the Computer Technicians for them to send off. All reports, for some reason Wesker had yet to determine, had to be sent by the Communications Network in the computer system.

The report showed everything that they had accomplished thus far in the project and what they now needed from the board in order to keep it running smoothly. What the board would learn from that report would certainly have them pleased to no end, especially for Umbrella's USA division when they realized that they were now ahead of them with this new creation.

_Which is rather idiotic. They should be mainly focused on keeping Umbrella the head of biological weaponry development, instead of competing with each other to get the most praise for their work._

Wesker resisted to roll his eyes in irritation at that thought, knowing full well it was true. As Umbrella was a mega-national corporation in the business of bio-weaponry development and was currently the biggest in the field of work, they should really all be aspiring to focus on the big picture; staying at the top of their field. Biological warfare was a major issue amongst huge corporations because it was a chance to use their money and power on researching a different angle to war itself. This was so important because war offered new customers, profits and opportunities to gain access to new projects under development as every country, large or small, wanted something that provided them with a great advantage over their enemies and were willing to barter with anything for such an edge. Thus, the T-Virus could provide such an edge.

And as such, most large corporations focused on such endeavours to gain these factors all to themselves, depending on how powerful they were in the field and how much of a reputation they had; which is why it was important that Umbrella should mainly focus on creating more powerful viruses and formidable B.O.Ws so that it was still the best. But the corporation's divisions weren't interested in keeping the corporation itself, but rather keeping each other more in praise and respect in Spencer's eyes.

The higher-ups weren't concerned with the corporation, but with their own petty and sordid empires. Since Spencer had complete control and authority over Umbrella,a doculd decide the course of their lives with the snap of his fingers, no one was aspiring to take power from him, knowing full well what consequences would occur for such a goal. But what they were really trying to do was to be the one that Spencer saw as most promising and would gain complete control over everything he owned upon his death.

To put it simply, Umbrella was a family of greedy and spoilt chidren attempting to gain the most favour from a dying parent to gain the bigger sum of the inheritance.

_And it's not just the divisions themselves. The individual scientists working under them are exactly the same, motivated by rivalries between each other for the acquisition of the better results._

Wesker scowled briefly in irritance at that thought, knowing full well that a prime example of this was inside the Arklay facility itself.

"I told you yesterday!!!" Wesker heard Birkin bellow from the main lab that he was walking towards.

"B-b-b-but sir, I was just-" some stammered, obviously terrified of Birkin's temper onslaught.

"Don't give me any excuses!!! You are being paid to give excuses, you are paid to do what I instruct you to do!!" Birkin yelled, interrupting the terrified assistant.

Wesker stood outside, patiently waiting for the conversation to end and hoped that, for the assistant's sake, nothing taboo was mentioned.

But unfortunately, something was. "If only Alexia Ashford were here, then maybe the project would go more smoothly than usual," the assistant said, clearly filled with awe and idolism for the Ashford girl.

Wesker grimaced, knowing full well that Birkin would certainly explode into a temper tantrum for saying that. Ever since Alexia Ashford had started working for Umbrella, Birkin had started to act more immature, becoming increasingly jealous of her, slaving day and night to create new and wondrous things, to restore his ego and praise in the eyes of Spencer, which was costing them a lot of specimens and B.O.Ws.

The reason was because of Birkin's original sort-of non-displayable award of being the youngest person to be accepted into Umbrella, to work on the Progenitor and to 'create' the T-Virus, all at the age of fifteen. No one, besides Spencer and Wesker, saw that Birkin wore that achievement with a lot of pride and egotistical arrogance, always seeming to enjoy the praise and congratulations from his co-workers yet never showed it on his expression. He enjoyed the fact that he had earned so much recognition from everyone in the corporation and took great pride in being respected by so many people for his genius.

But ever since Alexia Ashford arrived on the scene, all the attention immediately shifted to praise and admire her for her genius and youth, as she was only 10 years old, shattering Birkin's award. Wesker could understand why the praise and attention of all the employees, even the scientists at the Arklay laboratories, had gone to her, as her grandfather Edward Ashford had founded Umbrella along with the late James Marcus and Lord Spencer, and had also been a certifiable genius in his time. In addition, there was the point that the Ashford was considered to be one of the first and finest aristocratic families to be on the planet, making them greatly admired by everyone who knew their name.

However, since the death of Edward Ashford, the family's name had fallen into disarray and became overshadowed by others, thus the world was now forgetting and forsaking the Ashford name. And now Edward's son, Alexander, was working with his prodigal daughter in the Antartic base that he had set up 12 years ago, so that she could without any outside influence.Hence why Wesker grew weary of the continual praise for the Ashford girl that the scientists under his management voiced out loud, judging her intellect and potential only on her heritage and blood because nothing good would come out from her employment and work, no matter how much of a genius she was. Ever since the Antartic facility had been constructed, they had never yielded any worthwhile results over there and, even with Alexia there, Wesker doubted they would uncover anything useful.

But Birkin certainly didn't see it that way. He was now working harder than ever to earn back what he believed was his, repeating disorganised experiments one after the other, working at such a faster pace that no one could keep up with him and thus his work began to suffer. They had lost several specimens through Birkin's now envious attitude, his faster work pace and the lack of resources to keep the specimens alive, since Wesker and the other staff could not keep up with him.

Wesker saw a similarity between Birkin and their former mentor, the obsession to keep what they thought was theirs, but if the work was to make any further progress, he needed to get a grip on reality and focus. Otherwise, they would both have a permanent reunion with Marcus in a shallow, uunmarked grave somewhere in a wasteland.

"What did you say?" Birkin asked, his voice taking on a darker tone.

"Nothing, sir. Just voicing an opinion," the assistant replied.

"Are you judging me?" Birkin questioned.

"But sir, I was only-" the assistant tried to explain.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR JUDGEMENT!!! I DON'T NEED YOUR OPINIONS!!! I EXPLAINED WHAT I NEED FROM YOU AND SO FAR, RECEIVED NOTHING!!!" Birkin yelled at the top of his voice.

"S-s...s...sir, I am just-"

"Leaving! You are relieved of your post and reassigned to the lower labs, effective immediately. So leave!" Birkin ordered.

The assistant walked past Wesker, looking positively petrified, and headed towards the elevator to floor B3. Wesker stepped inside to see Birkin hunched over his desk, taking in deep ragged breaths and his white hands clenched on the table for dear life.

"Trouble with the staff?" Wesker asked sarcastically.

Birkin spun around, his face still red with anger. He had developed bags under his eyes and his hair was unkempt, sticking up in several places and looked in desperate need of trim.

He pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't you start Wesker. I don't need it now," he snarled.

Wesker walked over to him, his expression impassive, and leaned against the wall next to his desk.

"I beg your pardon," he apologised, trying to get Birkin to calm down so that they could get on with their work unhindered.

He looked up at the large stasis tanks that stood in the centre of the room in two groups of six with a small walkway in between. Out of all twelve, only one held a fully complete B.O.W from their current project on gene combination.

"How did this turn out?" he asked, moving closer to the stasis tank.

Inside the stasis tank, immersed in the clear green fluid was a six-foot tall creature, floating in a dreamless sleep, several wires placed inside every part of its body to monitor each of its vital signs. The creature inside was six-foot tall, humanoid in shape in only, possessing a huge muscular build and a dark green reptilian skin. Impossibly, long arms reached to its knees, razor-sharp claws tipped on its toes and fingers, and a wide mouth pulled back to reveal dagger-like teeth beneath bright red gums.

Birkin spun around in his chair to look at the B.O.W. "Better than we expected. The Hunter project has been a complete success. Once the board has been informed on how we produced this and what it is capable of, they will soon start mass-production. Hopefully, Spencer will be satisfied," he stated.

Wesker knew that Spencer would be impressed with this development but doubted he would be satisfied; he seemed beyond satisfying at the moment, thanks to a new 'development' they had made. During their research on the T-Virus, they had discovered an important factor that was a limiter in the virus' potential as a biological weapon (at least in Spencer's eyes) which had been unknown to them until they were permitted to use human specimens in their work, because it seemed this factor ony occurred in a human being.

They had uncovered that the T-Virus didn't kill everyone in a population, due to some compatiblities in the DNA of certain people that prevented the T-Virus from infecting them; if a group of people received the infection, only 90 would become zombies, the other 10 wouldn't show any signs of infection, not even if directly bitten by any B.O.W. It seemed amazing to them, since no matter what they tried, no infection or mutations would occur and when the host died from bite wounds sustained from direct contact with an infected or B.O.W, they stayed dead, no signs of regeneration or resuscitation being evident. And no matter how hard or much they analysed their DNA, they could find nothing to indicate the cause of this 'natural immunity'.

At first, Wesker hadn't been particularly bothered by this, since a virus that killed 90 of a population was still a successful biological weapon and would fetch a very high price from desperate customers. But, Spencer thought differently and made that perfectly clear during their last meeting, when he had exploded into a temper as Wesker had explained that they couldn't change the DNA in people to contribute a 100 infection. He shuddered slightly, remembering how awful that went with Spencer ranting on who was in power, in control over Umbrella, and who kept Wesker alive, and reminding him coldly of where his place was in the corporation, using Marcus as a grim example of the consequences of any ignorance.

_Bu what is he really after? He knows as well as I do, that a 90 kill-rate in a virus would fetch a good profit from customers and that they needed the money to keep the project running, considering how expensive the work is. Then why is he ignoring the costs? What does he really want beside money out of this?_

Spencer wasn't a idiot, he knew that the cost of such work was expensive to maintain, what with security, finances, staff payments, equipment and biopsy purchase, and to bribe all the necessary people they needed to keep the work a secret from the public. But he continued to ignore the costs of the work and ordered that they slaved night and day to find a way of making the T-Virus able to wipe out a whole population, not showing the slightest intent of passing it off as it was now.

_But what was his real aim? If not financial, what was it really?_

However, since Wesker had no time to spend his efforts on figuring out what Spencer's real intention was for the T-Virus, which would only arouse suspicion on his part, he and Birkin decided to find out a new way of eliminating an entire population without wasting time and resources on a worthless course of changing the T-Virus' structure to do so.

Hence why they developed the Hunters. The Hunters had been created via the combination of a fertilized human ovum with reptilian DNA, forming a patchwork human-reptile hybird and then the implantation of the T-Virus in the resulting creature, enhancing its physical traits tenfold. This creature was designed to deal with any surviving people in an outbreak scenario, to hunt down those who had this 'immunity' or had received a vaccination of the virus (another aspect of the project that Wesker wanted to ask for permission to work on), even if they were wearing body-armour or biohazard suits, their claws giving the ability to tear through the fabrics with relative ease.

Wesker looked back at Birkin, his previous thoughts momentarily forgotten. "Maybe he will be pleased. After all, this is a marvelous specimen you have created," he claimed.

Birkin nodded. "So far, there have been no problems with this specimen. It is a complete success, in perfect condition and ready for mass-production if they ordered so," he responded, his voice tinged with growing pride.

Wesker nodded, walking over to his desk and picked up one of his notes to read through on the results of the recent combat-smulations. The Hunters had been a successful project and showed real promise in the future, at least from what the computer simulations told them in their tests; they revealed a substantial amount of strengths that the board would find useful, but they would want the weaknesses that were uncovered to be sorted out as well. And Wesker knew, as Spencer did, that simulated data couldn't be used on a battlefield, they needed actual combat data.

_But for now, we have to stick with what we have._

The positive traits of the Hunters is being able to survive a lot of gunfire before their death, having great running speed and jumping height due to the increased muscle mass in their legs. And the most gruesome ability that the Hunters possessed was their vicious techinique of instantly decapitating their enemies with their sharp claws, utilizing their speed to get closer to their foes. All in all, it was a very lethal and formidable B.O.W.

However, the Hunters had a few weaknesses that could be an impairment on their roles as a B.O.W, but only two of them seemed to be the real trouble in the Hunters fighting prowess. One was that, although they could survive and endure gunfire whilst nearing a target, they could not withstand a gun of high power, firing rate or damage, such as a .44 Colt Anaconda, a Desert Eagle 5.0, an M16 Assault Rifle or a shotgun blast at close range, since their scaled skin was not exactly a strong defense against such fire-power. And two, since the Hunters relied mainly on their speed to get close on their targets so that they could use their claws, all one had to do was blow a leg off to stop it dead in its tracks.

_And because of Birkin's jealous behavior and disorganisation with his work, we only have one fullly functional Hunter as of yet._

Every part of the Arklay laboratories was falling to disarray due to Birkin's behavior and only managed to stay upright because of Wesker's leadership and control over the situation. But they couldn't keep on going on like this if they wished to make any progress, since the staff lacked the skills to cope with the magnitude of the problem.

Laboratories were working around the clock performing meaningless tasks that Birkin had randomly set them to do, the aged scientists barely finding enough energy to keep up with his pace, all the specimens they had were now dying and were unable to be resupplied quickly enough for the project to progress forward. And despite how many times the staff had complained to Spencer about how badly the Arklaay facility was running, he made no move to do anything about it, leaving all the responsibilities and problems on Wesker's shouders for him to solve.

To put it simply, the Arklay laboratories were now the workplace in Hell.

_But despite everything here, 'she' still lives._

"How is Lisa?" he asked out of the blue, catching Birkin by surprise.

Birkin looked at Wesker, his face completely pale and bloodshot eyes wide in shock. "She is still the same as ever, violent and locked up in the cells. I have done some tests on her with the T-Virus itself, to see how her DNA would react to it, but the virus itself just merges with her and the other viruses flowing in her system. Somehow, she still survives from the infections and I can't find out why yet," he explained.

Wesker nodded and held out his hand. "Give me your access card," he demanded.

Birkin glanced at his hand then back to Wekser's stoic face. "Pardon?"

"Give me your card," Wesker repeated.

Hesistantly, Birkin reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a sliver keycard, with his name and picture on it, placing it in Wesker's open gloved-hand.

"What do you want if for?" Birkin asked, narrowing his eyes slightly in suspicion.

Wesker put the keycard in his trouser pocket. "I am going to check on Miss Lisa. Someone has to make sure she is fed, locked up and that the guards are keeping an eye on her," he informed bluntly, walking over to the door.

Birkin nodded and turned back to his desk. "I better stay here and work on the Hunters further."

Wesker stopped as the door in front of him rose up to the ceiling to let him out. "Don't let your jealously of Miss Alexia Ashford get in your way," he warned.

Birkin spun around in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at Wesker. "Don't you start making judgements between me and that little brat!" he snarled.

Wesker shrugged his shoulders in response. "You have no need to worry about me making judgements between you and her. There is no time for that, we need to keep the project moving forward. Otherwise Spencer will have our heads."

Not waiting for Birkin to make a reply or response to that, he walked out of the lab and headed to the elevator towards floor B3, stepping inside the metal car once the gates opened and pressed the 'up' button. When the elevator stopped and the gates slipped open, he proceeded through the halls at a normal pace, occasionally nodding at the guards who saluted him or the scientists who greeted him with 'good day' or 'hellos'.

He unlocked the entrance to the prison with the three passwords Spencer had gave him and Birkin, and walked down the steps to the dank, wet tunnel below. He turned the corner and saw Lisa's cell ahead, the four guards standing outside the door with their weapons ready, looking absolutely afraid of the creature imprisoned inside.

As Wesker approached, the guards immediately snapped to attention and saluted.

"Has she been fed?" Wesker asked.

One of the guards nodded. "Yes sir."

"Restrained?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." He pulled his and Birkin's keycards, holding them out to the guard. "Open the door," he ordered.

The guard looked at the cards in Wesker's hands then stood back up straight, facing the wall in front of him. "Sorry, sir. I can't do that. It is near the end of our shift and we have to switch positions with the next group, so we can't leave with...'Her' on your own," he explained.

Wesker put on a grateful smile and straightened his sunglasses. "As much as I appreciate your concern, you needn't worry. I shall be fine. Just send the other group down here." He leaned closer to the guard, looking as if to study his expression. "You should also take a break. You really could do with one," he advised.

The guard sighed in relief and nodded. "Thank you, sir. We'll go get the others." He gestured to the other three guards and they all headed for the stairs.

"One more thing," Wesker said suddeny, catching the guards' attention. "Once you have had your break, I want you to help the scientists in sorting out the labs, to get things running smoothly again. And if there is any trouble, tell them to come and speak to me."

The guards nodded and went up the stairs, their footsteps echoing away as the ascended the stairs and then the door slammed shut with a loud metallic clunk. Wesker walked over to the door of Lisa's cell, swiping both his and Birkin's cards through the lock; the two lights on the lock changed from red to green and the sound of a metal lock releasing was heard on the other side.

The door slid open on its hinges and Wesker stepped inside the small, dark cell, making sure that the 9mm Beretta he now carried in his jacket for emergencies was loaded and ready for use.

Lisa was sitting against the far wall of the cell, a large manacle chained over both of her wrists, with a long attached to the manacle and a small metal loop in the wall. Two similar manacles were clamped on her ankles and attached to two other small loops in the wall by long chains as well. A plate sat in front of her with the remnants of a large steak sitting on top in large chunks, bones and small scraps scattered around the floor by her feet. Her hospital gown looked as filthy as ever, the blood and meat stains from her steak being the only fresh marks on the ancient, mouldy piece of fabric.

Wesker approached her catiously, taking light steps, his right hand coming to rest over his left breast pocket where his gun was holstered. He picked up the plate and slid outside the doo lightly, making sure he made no noise with it. After the plate with the leftovers slid outside the door, he crept over to the computer on the desk near her bed and inserted a floppy disk into the hard-drive, starting the download of the files inside into the disk.

The process took about five minutes, which Wesker was thankful for, and he took out the disk, turned on the computer and turned to leave when he heard a sound that made him go rigid. A low, unearthly moan next to him. He turned slowly to his right-

-to see Lisa staring at him with dark, insane eyes, her mouth set into a grim snarl. She hissed at him in anger, her fists balling up into fists. Wesker stepped away from her, being extremely careful not to enrage her, his right hand clutching hold of his pistol and his left hand reaching for the cell's door handle. He reached the door and stepped outside, slowly bringing the door shut-

-when Lisa shrieked and leapt at him, her chained hands raised as if to beat him with her manacles. Wesker immediately slammed the door and backed away, pulling out his pistol and pointing it at the door nervously, his finger ready to pull the trigger if she came through the door. However, to his fortune, the chains on her wrists and ankles held her firmly and she was yanked back in mid-air, causing her to crash on the floor with a loud thud.

Wesker took in deep shaking breaths to calm down his frazzled nerves and wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling gald that the guards weren't nearby to see his feared reaction at Lisa's attempted attack. Since Wesker was the one who was keeping the lab up and running as best as he could, and made up the only stable command of the facilities, the last thing people wanted to see was that he was losing his cool. The lab and its staff had come to rely on Wesker's cool, calm and calculating persona to make sure that they all trust to keep the lab in working order, in regards to Spencer's neglect. And if he started showing that he was losing his cool, the staff would really begin to worry and the lab would fall apart at the seems.

He walked up to the barred window in the cell door and peered inside at the mutated woman, sitting against her wall again, seemingly in rest. Wesker found it surprising that she was still alive throughout everything of her existence within Umbrella's inner workings, despite all the experiments, viruses and strains of the Progenitor that now ran through her system, and also the additional from Birkin's jealous behavior manifested in his work, evident from the recent scars on her arms and thighs due to hasty injections without proper technique.

"What is it that makes you so special? Why do you still live despite this Hell?" he questioned, sounding like he was asking her for the answers, thoug he found himself feeling stupid for asking such a question to her. He doubted that after all those years in the laboratories, she would still have any logical thought left.

_And if she did have any logical thought left, she would really just wish for a quick death._

Wesker felt a momentary stab of pity in his heart but surpressed it soon after and went back to the stairs, passing the next group of guards as they came to take on the shift of keeping watch on Lisa. He didn't have enough experimental data to work with in finding out Lisa's specialty from the other specimens and had too much work that needed to be done with the Hunters and the T-Virus than to worry about 'Her'.

Right now, the factor of most importance was to keep Spencer and the board satisfied, and to do that, he had to work on the T-Virus project and keep the Arklay laboratories running efficiently...

It was coming up near midnight in the Arklay laboratories, all th scientists having retired to their dormitories to catch up on their rest for the day, all the specimens now shut down and locked away to be used again, the many rooms in the underground labs now shutdown for the night, all the rooms left in pitch-blackness except for the small flicker of lights that indicated the most important machines were still running properly. The only people still awake at that time were the guards who were given the night-shift in patrolling the estate's grounds and the second Head Researcher currently busying himself with his work down in the B4 main lab.

Birkin was still busy writing up all the notes on every experiment that he, Wesker and the rest of the staff had performed, making sure that a report was written up of everything that had been done in the laboratories that day, offering his own evaluation on each of them and stating his opinions on what to do for improvements. He had wanted to get it all done and dusted as soon as possible, not caring if he had to work all night to get it done and ready to be sent off to the board.

_Someone has to do it right. Someone who can actually focus on the importance of the work, not like those brown-nosing delinquets for scientists who only cared about sucking up to the person they believed was the best. And Wesker is busy keeping the labs going, so he is too busy to help._

Birkin took another sip of his coffee and slammed the cup down on the table. He had begun to feel impatient and annoyed by the scientists' attitudes and intelligence (or lack of it) in their work. All they now did was complain to Wesker of how the project was failing, how they couldn't keep up with Birkin's workpace with their current lacking in resources and specimens, and the fact that the security staff, who they argued were very much beneath them (which Birkin totally agreed on), were now in the laboratories, messing about with their work when all they did was offer their assistance.

_It's all the fault of that snot-nosed brat, Alexia Ashford. Ever since she arrived, I am losing everything that I have gained and the labs are falling to hell._

Birkin held his head in his hands and let out a muffled growl, his fingers locking onto the small bangs of disheveled hair that hung over his pale face. He knew that ever since Alexia Ashford had arrived that everything would get worse for him, his work and the Arklay facilities themselves, and to his misfortune, it did. The scientists were becoming lazy and whiny, always complaining about their lack of progress on the T-Virus and how well it would go if Alexia was in charge, only showing interest in praising her new employment, despite the fact that she had done nothing at all.

The guards weren't able to cope with the endless demands that had to be fulfilled, looking and acting like rats in a maze, running around aimlessly, accomplishing very little at all. The specimens couldn't survive the increased work-pace or strenuous tests on their anatomy, resulting in their death and immediate disposal at the Treatment Plant near the Training Facility, which was still kept in operation as it was vitally important to get rid of the terminated specimens.

Wesker himself had begun to lose track of his work, now having to keep up his role as Head Researcher and the only authority figure in the entire lab complex by ensuring that everything was running smoothly, forsaking his work to perform his other duties, since Spencer had abandoned them. He had become unwantingly immersed in the political machinations of the corporation, swamped with meaningless procedures and red-tape that wouldn't go away until everything was back to normal. Though at the rate things were falling apart, it would take a miracle for that to happen.

Birkin decided to ignore that thought and get back to his work, knowing that these had to be done at the end of the week so they could be sent off to the main HQ in Europe for the board to review, otherwise they would have more trouble on their hands.

He read through all the reports and wrote down whatever needed to be written down, finding every part to be in good order until he came to one report that practically butchered all the others. One of the reports showed that status of their still-living Hunter, or their previously living Hunter, having dropped to critical levels earlier in the day when he had left the main lab earlier in the day to help out things in the B3 laboratories. It seemed that after an hour when he had left the lab, the Hunter had woken up out of its sedative state and went beserk, damaging the life-support systems in place to keep it alive in its tank and had drowned. The body had already been sent to the treatment plant for disposal.

His fingers went numb with disbelief and the report slipped from his hands, his eyes widened in shock. "Four days work," he mummered, his voice barely heard even by himself.

His cheeks soon flushed red with anger and his hands balled up into fists, so hard that the palm of his hands had started to bleed.

"FOUR DAYS WORK UP THE BLOODY SPOUT!!!" he bellowed, picking up the coffee cup and hurling it across the room, the cup shattering against the far wall and spilling its contents over the mesh floor.

He had been afraid that this would happen, that they would lose the only decent and current accomplishment they had achieved to show the board, but he knew far back in his mind that this would happen, that something would always go wrong with his work. He was loathed to admit it, but he had come to realize that since Alexia's arrival, his own work had started to suffer and die, that he was beginning to lose focus on his research and that, no matter what he did, it would all just wither away and pass on like the Hunter.

He had to face the facts that Alexia's arrival had ruined his career quite badly and he was in desperate need of a way to get it back on track, along with the rest of the lab. Or he would have to face the board's decisions on where his career was to be diverted to.

He stood up and slammed his hands down on his desk, the small droplets of blood staining the stainless steel with the crimson liquid. "Heaven help us," he whispered.

"Hello? Is someone still in here?" a female voice called out from the doorway.

Birkin looked around the stasis tanks to see a young woman standing at the door looking around, her face etched with concern. She took a few cautious steps forward into the room, her high-heeled shoes clicking on the floor as she moved and Birkin was able to see what she looked like. She seemed to be about his age, either 18 or 19, Birkin himself being 19 years old after three years of employment, possessing a tall and slim figure, long golden blonde hair that reached her chin and bright blue eyes. She was wearing a white lab coat over a dark blue button-up shirt, a white knee-length skirt with matching high-heels.

She turned to face him and gasped, her cheeks flushing red with embarassment. "Dr Birkin?" she asked.

Birkin stepped out from around the corner and leaned against the tanks, his hands stuck in his lab coat pockets. "Yes, what is it you want?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.

She cleared her throat. "I was working upstairs in the surgery room, finishing up the reports for tomorrow so you could have a look, but I heard the sound of something shattering and came down here to look if anything was wrong," she explained.

Birkin nodded. "That was my coffee cup. I...threw it at the wall. Just the stress and strain of the work catching up with me."

The young woman looked at him, an expression of concern plastered across her face. "Are you well, sir?" she asked.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Not really, no. I am quite at my wit's end with everything that has happened. First, Miss 'High-and-mighty' Alexia Ashford comes along, everything I have earned is shattered, the staff complain about the lack of progress in our work and the laboratories themselves are falling to trash," he explained.

"Miss Alexia Ashford? That new employee in the Antarctica? I hear she IS a genius," the woman said, mainly to herself.

Birkin looked over his shoulder at her. "That's what everyone has been saying. Hell, they haven't stopped talking about it for ages, always whining and moaning about how fast the project would go with her in charge. What could she possiby contribute to us, she's only just been employed!?!" he yelled, losing himself in his temper tantrum.

The woman looked away, feeling quite worried that she had angered her boss. "I beg your pardon, sir. I was only voicing an opinion," she apologised.

Birkin turned full around to face her and suddenly felt a pang of guilt at making her feel that way, seeing the look on her face. Somehow, despite feeling only anger at any of the other staff talking about the Ashford brat, he couldn't help but regret making the woman feel uncomfortable and losing his temper at her when she hadn't done anything.

He sat back down at his desk and immersed himself in his notes again. "Sorry I snapped at you. It's just that all everyone talks about is that girl and it gets on my nerves," he explained sincerely.

The woman leaned on the corner of his desk, looking at him curiously. "Why does she get on your nerves?" she asked.

Birkin looked up at her. "Well, it's because that since she is younger than I am and is a so-called 'genius', everyone in the entire corporation seems to have forsaken my existence and what I have accomplished for them. I have made considerable advances in our work and now they all revea their true natures as complete and utter kiss-asses to anyone who is the supposed greater intellect. Bascially, I was just a fad and all my work is forasken for her priveleges," he informed her, though in the back of his mind he was wondering why he was telling this to her in the first place.

The woman listened intently, her arms crossed across her chest. "I don't see why you would be forsaken by the corporation. After all, you are a genius, one of the best they have," she stated truthfully.

Birkin suddenly began to feel embarassed. "W-wh-what did you say?" he stammered.

The woman's cheeks began to flush red again, feeling embarassed at having said that. "Well, uh, you are responsible or creating the T-Virus in the first and for making all the progress thus far with it in the research, so you have accomplished a lot in your time. It takes real talent to be able to work on something like this at such a young age and to achieve so much in just a few years of employment with Umbrella," she replied, rubbing her hands together nervously.

Birkin was actually surprised that she had said something like that to him, considering the current circumstances revolving around the laboratories. All the other scientists had never praised him at all upon Alexia's arrival and generally complained to him about his attitude, some of them requesting transfers to different areas and others staying behind to continue their own projects, despite being afraid of Birkin's increased temper and limited patience.

But here before him, this woman who he had never seen at all in the labs ever since coming to work here three years ago, was praising his talents and his accomplishments. He had never really bothered to remember any of the staff's names, preferring to just call out to one of them and send onto their work, so he didn't know anything about any of the staff, except Wesker of course. But throughout his entire time in the labs, he could never recall any female researchers ever working in the labs and didn't particularly care to find out a reason for this, making her a new addition that he hadn't been aware of. And he found it so peculiar that this woman, who he had only just met, was praising him, and his work as if she had watched him for years and had been a part of it.

"Thank you," were the only words he could say to her and he said them with genuine gratitude.

She smiled at him and he found himself transfixed by her sweet smile; it seemed to be the silver lining of light in a dark, terrible storm, bringing him sweet relief. He returned her smile.

"You're welcome," she responded.

Birkin looked back at his reports and cleared his throat, taking up his pen in his hand. "I had better get these done. Sorry for taking your time, you should be getting some sleep," he stated, once again absorbed in writing and evaluating the reports.

"If you want me to, I can help," she offered.

Birkin thought it over seriously for a few moments whether he should let her or turn down her offer. He had always preffered to work on his own, since the other scientists lacked the intelligence and the focus to keep up with his work, always losing track on what they were doing and had to be guided back like children wondering away from their parents. But as far he could tell, he found no problem with her helping him to get the reports done.

"I would be most grateful for your help," he answered, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She smiled and clasped his hand, shaking it firmly. "Well then, lets get started."

Working together, it only took half an hour to finish up all the reports and put them all neatly in order, ready to be sent off. Birkin had to admit that he wass impressed with the woman's own talents and abilities, showing herself to be a really competent and reliable scientist in her work. He had to admit that he was fascinated by her, the fact that she was the combination of a beautiful and highly-attractive woman with a kind nature and an intelligent mind for her work. He often found himself casting glances in her direction, gazing at every part of her wonderful figure, finding simple fascination in just watching work. To him, she seemed perfect in every way.

But when she glanced in his direction and their eyes met, both of them stared into each others' eyes, finding something interesting inside them that they couldn't look away from until they soon snapped out of their daze and looked away from each other, their cheeks flushing with embarassment. Birkin cleared his throat and let out a series of fake coughs whilst the woman just started writing on the reports at a faster pace.

Once they had finished everything, they had both left for the dormitories at the end of the courtyard, walking side by side as they walked through the lucious, decorative gardens designed in an old Victorian fashion. They started to talk about each other, explaining a lot about themselves, what they were like, what they liked and hated, even simple things as their favourite color. The woman listened intently to everything Birkin had to say, looking really interested in what he had to say and he returned the favor by listening to everything she had to say, showing the same interest in what she had to say.

Birkin told her about his life, how he was in the neighbourhood during childhood, what his dreams were, where he went to school, what college was like for him, how university went, what he did after employment in Umbrella and what he hoped to achieve in the future. He had avoided any questions or mentions about the late James Marcus, not feeling particularly keen on discusiing anything to do with his dead tutor, whom he had assassinated aong with Wesker.

The woman had been born, like him, a child prodigy in a simple neighbourhood, being drawn into science at a young age as he had. She had gone to the State University of New York Upstate Medical University at the age of 15 and had graduated, full honours, with a PhD in Biochemistry and Biology. Soon, the Umbrella corporation had taken a notice of her and had her sent to the Arizona Training Facility, spending a whole year there in preparation for her to work on the T-Virus, and afterwards was assigned to the Arklay laboratories.

They had continued that way, talking with each other about every aspect of their lives as they walked through the courtyard over to the dormitories and near to their rooms, lowering their voices so as to not disturb the others.

They soon came to room labelled 101. "Well," the woman started, turning to face him, "this is my room."

Birkin nodded. "Have a good evening," he said and moved to walk past her until she grabbed his arm.

"Wait. Would you like to come in for a few minutes?" she asked.

He thought it over for a few moments and nodded, smiling at her. She returned the smile and unlocked the door, stepping aside for him to step through, closing the door behind her. Her room was just like his and the others; small and cramped, a bed at the far end of the room on the left hand wall, a wardrobe opposite that, a dresser on the right of the bed and the bathroom behind the door on the right of the entrance. The difference was her bedroom was more organised and tidy, whereas his was a mess of papers and scattered books.

The woma slipped out of her high-heels and walked over to her bed, sitting on the edge of it. Birkin stood in his place rigidly.

She chuckled slightly. "You can sit down if you want. There is no need for you to stand there at all," she said, moving over slightly and tapping her hand on the bed for him to sit down.

Birkin walked over and sat down next to her, his hands folded in his lap, taking a glance at the woman to see she was doing the same thing as he was, although her cheeks had started to take a turn towards the crimson color spectrum.

"So, was there anything you wanted to say to me?" he asked, looking at her.

She turned to look at him, her cheeks tinted with a slight pink flush. "It's about the Hunter project. I...I owe you an apology for it," she said, her voice filled with guilt.

His expression changed to one of confusion. "What on earth do you mean?" he asked.

"I...I was there when the Hunter woke up. I...I couldn't do anything to prevent it's death. W...we had no sedatives or drugs to incapacitate it and the life support systems were far too damaged to be repaired or reactivated. I...I guess you could say...it was... my fault," she admitted, suddenly looking downcast.

Birkin thought over what she had just said to him, but he surprisingly found himself not getting angry or feeling any blame to place on her. He knew that the board would be disappointed with the lack of a suitable B.O.W and that his research had been put back considerably over a couple of days, that he would have to get the Hunter developed again whilst assisting Wesker to keep the labs going, so there would be a lot of trouble for him in the coming days.

_But she wouldn't have done it on purpose. She is certainly a bright, attractive woman with the talents, intellect and focus to keep the project moving forward. She is definitely one of the only other staff members in have seen with any ACTUAL intelligence to work here._

He put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry. It is not your fault. You are certainly a talented person and I highly doubt that you would do that on purpose," he said sincerely.

The woman's face showed her sweet smile again and she placed her hand over his. "Thank you, sir. And you shouldn't let Alexia Ashford and what the others say about her get to you. You are far more brilliant than she is, at least in my eyes," she responded, squeezing his hand softly.

Birkin enjoyed the feeling of her soft slender hand over his, squeezing it gently, her gentle fingers curled around his palm, his own rough fingers closing on top. They stared that way for some time, holding each other's hands and staring into each other eyes, showing no care for anything else around them except each other. Birkin felt his face go hot again and his heartbeat starting to increase in its rate, feeling lightheaded and some unknown emotion that he had never experienced before creeping to the front of his mind; it was an attraction to the perfect woman seated before, almost like he was in...

He shook his head and stood up, reluctantly letting go of her hand. He walked over to the door and turned back to face her, an apologetic look on his face.

"Forgive men for making you stay up this. I should get to my room now and get some sleep for tomorrow. There's a lot of work to be done," he said.

She nodded. "It doesn't matter. It was...nice...talking with you, Doctor," she replied.

"William. My first name is William," he informed her. He scratched his head for a few moments, thinking how to ask this question when he knew he should have asked this earlier. "Um...what is...uh...your name?" he asked, feeling stupid for having to ask this so late when he should have asked it sooner.

Instead of looking insulted, she smiled again and Birkin relaxed, the stress and stupidity of what he had just said flowing away, like water through a sieve.

"It's Annette. Annette Jenkins. It was nice to meet you Doc-...William," she said, still smiling.

Birkin returned her smile, glad that he got to know her name and that she wasn't insulted by him asking so late into their conversation.

"Annette?" he asked, "Since I have recently fired my assistant for his lack of skills and continuous whining, I am in need of someone to help in my work. I, uh, was, well wondering if, um, you would, that is if you want to, fill that position?"

Her beautiful blue eyes went wide as grapes and she pointed a finger into her chest. "Me? You want me as your assistant?" she asked incredulously.

Birkin nodded. "You certainly have talent that should be focused something more important than working with the other scientists' projects. You are a very bright person and you know how to conduct your work to the best of your ability, making a good job of it. And I would consider in an honour if you would take up my offer," he explained.

Annette was silent for a few moments, thinking over his proposition, then she practically beamed at him, her sweet face crinkling with her angelic smile. "I accept your proposition, William."

Birkin returned her smile just as equally. "Well, I better be off to bed. And our work starts at 7:30 tomorrow morning in the main lab on B4. We have to create another Hunter so the board can receive a prototype for their review. I'll see you then."

She nodded. "Goodnight, William."

"Goodnight, Annette," he replied, stepping out into the hall and headed towards his dorm room, Annette locking her room door as well. Birkin walked through the halls of the simple wooden building until he came to room 103, his own room, taking out his keys and unlocking the door, then shutting it and locking the door behind him. His room was as it was when he had left it to get to work, a site of a photocopier gone wild, papers scattered everywhere that one couldn't move without hearing the crunch of paper under their feet.

Birkin didn't bother getting ready for bed, just kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling for a few minutes, about how he was going to create the Hunter again and get everything ready by the end of the week for the board to look at.

_And the prospect of working with Annette again springs to mind, doesn't it?_ his mind declared.

Birkin couldn't really understand why he had that feeling when holding Annette's hand and staring into her beautiful face, almost like he was falling in love with her and felt compelled to be with her, barely able to control his feelings for her, despite the fact that they had only just met. He had never been interested in women before, being a child prodigy, because he had always been more focused on his professional life, leaving his personal life and its issues on the back burner. He had been fully aware that him getting a girlfriend was impossible during his years in education since he was so young and preffered to ignore other people so that he could work in the science labs or read up on new research studies and theories in the library; as he had been immediately accepted into a secondary school at the age of eight and spent four years in there before he went to university at 12, he could never get a girl, since they were all very much older than he was.

But he seemed to be quite interested in Annette Jenkins, seeming to find her perfect in every way. She was an extravagant woman with a great intellect that could match his own and the dedication that would get her far in her employment in Umbrella. She had the skills to handle any kind of work that Umbrella could offer her and she had the focus to never lose track of it. And she was also highly appreciate of his own skills and success, seeming to admire and compliment him on what he had accomplished, and interested in what he had to say about himself.

_And you feel the same way for her. You admire her as she does you._

He let that thought resonate in his head for a moment, letting his counscious register what it fully meant. As much he couldn't belive it, he knew he was interested in and admired Annette, in more ways than one, and was quite glad to have the opportunity of working along side in his work. It would help to get to know her better.

Deciding to leave that train of thought alone until tomorrow, he turned off his light and drifted of to sleep, his mind wandering back to the young woman he had come to admire...

Annette leaned against her door, trying to slow down her racing heartbeat when William Birkin had left, feeling very much flustered and was quite sure her cheeks burned bright red from embarassment. She couldn't believe that she had gotten so close to him at all, let alone being able to talk about his life and have him listen to her when she talked about hers, to hold his hand and actually stare into his unnaturally bright blue eyes. But she found it most surprisingly of all that he didn't get angry at her when she confessed her failure in saving the Hunter and was astonished that he instead offered her a position as his assistant.

_And everyone complains that he's an arrogant, stuck-up jerk. Hell, I did as well! But he is a nice man, if you get to know him better._

She sighed and decided to have a warm bath before going to be, wanting to get the stench of a long work day off of her. She stepped into her bathroom and turned on the faucet for the water, placing her hand under the water to feel how hot it was. Once she was sure it was warm enough, she put in the lug and let it fill up, going back into her bedroom to grab a pair of white towels from the dresser, taking them back into the bathroom and hanging them on the hooks on the door.

The water reached up near the rim and she turned of the tap, soshing the water with her hand gently to spread the warmth around. She took off lab coat and hung it next to the towels, unbuttoning her shirt and putting it in the laundry basket next to the sink, along with her skirt and underwear, before she slid gently into the bath, feeling the warm cascade and soothe her fatigued body. She dipped her blonde hair in the water and picked up a shampoo from the stand hung over the side of the bath; she took a brief glance at the Umbrella logo pasted on the front and squeezed some of the contents in her hair, rubbing it in gently.

Once she had finished, she washed the shampoo out of her hair and lay in the warm water, eyes closed, relaxing to the soothing, cleansing water in peace. She thought over everything in her life then, relishing the good memories, thinking about her home-town, her parents and the time they spent together, the first science fair she had won, her time in college and university, her employment with Umbrella and finally about William Birkin.

She opened her eyes and held up her hand near her face, still feeling his hand over hers, even seeing his fingers encircling her own. Ever since she had arrived at the Training Facility in Arizona, she had heard rumours and gossip about the Raccoon Training Facilty's protogee candidates, the 'child-geniuses', the 'disciples of Lord Spencer' and other bizarre names that described Albert Wesker and William Birkin. She had become interested about those two, since they had to be quite famous to be mentioned and talked about when they worked so far away; everyone in the Arizona Training Facility talked about them incessantly, even the staff did.

She had to admit that she was impressed with them for being recruited so young into the corporation, let alone to be given such high ranks as Head Researchers under the tutelage of James Marcus and Lord Spencer, becoming two of the greatest minds on the corporation's payroll. And when she had been accepted into the corporation's inner-workings and was assigned to be working in the Arklay laboratories underneath Lord Spencer's Estate, she had been surprised that she would be working underneath Birkin and Wesker's management. She had asked around a bit about what the staff thought of them, maybe thinking that they shared the same respect and admiration of them that the other candidates at the Arizona Training Facility did.

But their thoughts on the two child-geniuses were very different because they despised and feared them. The reason they despised them so much was because they were highly jealous of their success and favour with Lord Spencer. The other staff had been working on the Progenitor since the estate had first been constructed, spending over 14 years working in the labs and making quite substantial breakthroughs in the research, yet none of them had ever received the position of Head Researcher. Then Wesker and Birkin had arrived, being granted the positions of Head Researchers by Lord Spencer himself and received full control over the laboratories. This angered the other scientists because they had been on the project for so long and had yet to be rewarded, but along came the child geniuses and taken their long sought-after positions from them, meaning they were now being bossed around by teenagers who they believed were far too inexperienced to work on the real research at Umbrella and too young to have such positions.

And they feared them because they weren't the most socialable pair, only discussing their work amongst each other and showing respect to each other, never to the other staff, always changing how they treated them depending on the situation. Wesker was generally the man that the other scientists showed a small measure of trust in, despite how jeallous they were of him, and relied on him to keep the labs running; although, people were scared of him because no one could tell what he was thinking, what he was really upto, what he really wanted out of it; a true enigma.

Birkin, on the other hand, was more tempermental, making him feared as he would go off at the slightest mistake, acting like a complete perfectionist. No one could do anything to please him, he always found mistakes and always prosecuted people for them, yelling at them for ages and driving them to their breaking points. And still the staff had praised, falsely or not, which he had enjoyed tremendously, to be recognised for his genius and admired for his accomplishment, displaying his rpide around like a wave.

_And we all thought he was an arrogant jerk._

She had to agree with the others about Birkin especially, since she rarely had any experience at meeting with Wesker, recognising him only by face and his dark sunglasses. She had watched as Birkin had went beserk at one of the scientists for failing to follow through a simple equation, which resulted in the death of specimen. He had berated him on how he had stupidly failed to keep up with a simple equation, belittled by complaining on how somehow of his 'neandethal' intelligence had managed to work for Umbrella and insulted him further by explaining how to perform the experiment in a slow tone of voice. Back then, she respected his talents, his success, his dedication, but she had come to hate his attitude, the arrogant expression he always wore that showed he was better than anyone else.

But now, she found she actually liked him. He had actually shown that he was a nice man underneath his arrogant exterior, that he could show any other emotion besides contempt to other people. She seemed to find herself on good terms, perhaps on friendship, with the man ever since they had worked together briefly in the labs earlier in the evening. He had shown interest about what she said, listening intently to what she had to say about herself and her life, and had been incredibly polite with her, even not shouting or yelling at her for the accident with the Hunter.

_But you find him attractive and brilliant. You obviously want more than a simple friendship._ her mind taunted.

Annette was momentarily stunned that such a thought would enter her head about William, considering it was the first time she had ever got to know him. But she knew that there was something causing her to feel attracted towards him because she had occasionally taken brief glances at him whilst they worked together in the labs, admiring him as he worked, and had felt considerably embarassed when their eyes had met for a second when he took a glance at her as well. And then, there was the time when they held hands and gazed into each other's eyes, seeing an emotion in his eyes that seemed to match her own. And that feeling.

She decided to leave it for another time and get some sleep for tomorrow. She stepped out of the bath and pulled the plug to drain it, grabbing the towels from the hooks from the door, wrapping one around her body and the other around her hair. She walked into her bedroom and opened up the wardrobe to pull out a long white night gown, putting it on and tying a knot in the large laces on its sides.

She turned out the lights and slid under the covers, falling to a peaceful sleep where she dreamed about the young genius that her feelings had begun to grow for...

**Sorry if the update is a bit late, had some trouble in deciding how to write this chapter, so I hope it came out all right.**

**This is my first time EVER writing anything with a romantic theme to it and I hope it was good for a first try. Also, hope Annette is in character and that I have explained how William/Annette's feelings develop for each other to become the marriage couple (especially for my No.1 reviewer Chaed, cheers for reading through the entire story. You are the best).**

**Anyway, sorry if the updates are a bit late, trying to update as soon as I can. I AM going to finish this, I WON'T abandon it and leave it to wither unfinished in the site.**

**So thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. And stay tuned for chapter 29!!**


	29. Chapter 29

Twenty Nine

Nothing new or worthy had occurred over the passing months until 1982, where some of history's biggest events, known or unknown, had begun. One example is the Vietnam Veterans Memorial being dedicated in Washington D.C., after a march to its site by thousands of Vietnam War Veterans on November 13th. Another example is the assassination of the Lebanon President, Bachir Gemayel, in Beirut on September 14th, followed by the Lebanon Christian Militia's slaughter of Palestines in the Sabra and Chatila refugee camps in West Beirut, four days later.

But one of the most devastating events that the world hasn't forgotten is the Falklands War, from April 2nd – June 14th. The war where many British soldiers had been sent to their deaths to reclaim the Falkland Islands from Argentian occupation, which resulted in 258 British troops and 649 Argentian soldiers KIA, with 777 British and 1068 Argentian units wounded. Back in Umbrella's heirarchy, when news of the outbreak of the Falklands War reached the Executive Board, nearly all of its member believed that they could start selling their B.O.Ws and the T-Virus to the Argentians for money and profit.

However, due to Spencer's immediate disagreement and refusal, the matter was dropped and the corporation continued its efforts on improving the T-Virus and creating more efficient B.O.Ws to sell, providing a much greater purchase value and reputation amongst potential customers. At least, that was what he CLAIMED to want out of it, but since he was the man who called all the shots in Umbrella and had the most influence over everything that occurred in the corporation, no one questioned his true intentions and thus, the scientists continued work on the T-Virus without question.

Currently, in an underground facility in the frozen and blizzard-covered wastelands of Antarctica, built inside a frozen glacier, a young girl was preparing to begin her own experiments, without any outside influence to interfere in her work.

Alexia Ashford walked into the decontamination elevator to the labs, wearing a small yellow Haz-Mat suit, waiting to begin her work on what she deemed worthy for her attention to be focused on. The elevator soon came to a stop, the decontamination vapours slowly faded away to nothing and the hiss of the sprays built into the walls of the small lift stopped.

She stepped through the doors into a small hallway of to her left which led to a large circular pit with a metal wakway built around its side of the walls in a semi-circle, one direction led to a hallway that ended in a hallway with a pair of automatic metal doors leading the stasis room. She proceeded down the path on her right, which led towards her own personal office and laboratory.

She reached the small wooden door and walked inside, greeted by the soft light coming from the ornamental lamp sitting a small cupboard in the far corner of the room, her desk opposite that, with all the textbooks that she had been reading lately scattered on top. To her left was her own personal lab; right now, it consisted of a small surgery table, a desk with a computer console sitting on top along with an atom-mass-spectrometer and several glass tanks containing experimental specimens. It was a small and fairly common type of lab, simple in design and technology, but she knew that she would soon get better equipment to perform more complex experiments once either her pathetic brother or her reliable brother got permission from the board to have such equipment.

Her small ruby lips formed a tight scowl when the thought of her father came to mind. She hated her father, as much as Alfred did, perhaps more so. Alexander Ashford was an incompetent, moronic and paranoid man, who seemed to believe that he had complete control over everything he had in his possession and could command Alexia on what she wanted to accomplish in his own beliefs. But Alexia knew she had rarely needed her pathetic father for anything, neither in her life nor her work, she desired; she had always relied on herself to do what must be done.

_My father and the rest of them are insignificant, compared to me. My intellect is beyond them and they think I NEED their help!? What blind fools does this corporation hire for staff, university rejects?_

Ever since she was born, Alexia had always known that she was above everyone of the ignorant masses on the planet. No one could ever match to her brilliance, not those teachers and lecturers at her university, not the staff of the corporation, not her ignorant father or dear brother, no one could. She had always been better than anyone and had decided that it was better if she worked alone on what she wanted to do, since having anyone else involved would just hinder the work and get in her way.

So she had requested from her father that she be allowed to work alone, relying only on her brother to help her, which he readily agreed to, giving her a private lab in the Antarctica facility and full control over everything that she would need, no questions asked by anyone. She did need her father for some things, but only because of his position within Umbrella's hierarchy made him useful in acquiring what she needed to work with. That was quite possibly the only use she found for him at all in her work and life.

Alfred, on the other hand, was more reliable than her father. He was loyal, obedient, faithful and ever-admiring towards her, only following orders that she gave him and he followed them through relentlessly and to the best of his ability, never stopping until he had accomplished them completely. He treated her like a goddess and worshipped her immensely, and she rewarded him by depending on him even more, shwoing that she appreciated his work for her.

_He may not be as brilliant as me, nor is he perfect, but he is a faithful soldier to me. And I am grateful._

There came a timid knock at her office door and she allowed the person to enter, seeing it was her twin sibling and loyal soldier, Alfred. He was dressed in the same Haz-Mat suit as she was and was holding something wrapped in a black sheet of plastic.

"I am sorry disturb you, dear Alexia. But, I have something that you could use in your experiments," he said, his voice very small and quiet in the presence of his sister.

Alexia walked into her lab, not taking a glance back at her brother as he followed her, the wayward pup that he was, and started up her computer.

"Dear brother, what is it you wish to speak to me about then?" she asked politely as she opened up one of the stasis tanks that held a large tarantula spider. She picked up a nearby syringe and injected it under the spider's fangs, into its mouth to draw a blood sample, the syringe filling up with a yellowish fluid whilst her finger released pressure on the plunger.

"I had found a good specimen for to use in your experiments. The other scientists said that you couldn't possibly find any use for this, being the fools that they are, but I knew that you would be able to, so I brought it to you," he explained, holding out his hands.

Alexia turned to her brother, a grateful and loving smile upon her face. "Thank you, my dear brother. Well, what is it?" she asked.

Alfred opened up his hands and Alexia's eyes widened in horror as she saw what was in her brother hands. It was the body of a queen ant, seeming to have aged much over its years of life, its skin turned a darkish gray color thanks to rigor mortis beginning to set into its body post-mortem. She felt immensely sickened and paralysed at the sight of the dead insect; out of all the creatures on the planet, she hated to see an ant, more specifically the queen ant, die.

"What caused this?" she asked, her voice turning harsh with rage.

Alfred's face immediately went pale and he closed his fists over the dead queen ant. "I am sorry, Alexia. I-I-I...I...I'll get you a n-new specimen, a better one," he stammered, feeling afraid that he had angered his sister.

"Who did this?" she repeated, her tone of voice growing darker still.

Alfred looked around and pointed a shaky finger at the tarantula inside the glass tank. "That did it. The scientists said that the queen ant had been found inside a web cocoon caught in the tarantula's web. It was drained before it arrived here," he answered.

Alexia glared at the tarantula with cold, malicious eyes and clenched her fists. The tarantula itself just sat there at the bottom of the glass tank, absorbed in its own thoughts. "Kill it," she ordered.

Alfred glanced up at her and then back at the tarantula with the same malicious glare. "At once, Alexia," he agreed.

He strode over to the surgical table and picked up a small scalpel that was laying on the tool rack, waiting to be used, and sliced his finger open by running it along the blade, blood slowly coursing down his hand, to test its sharpness. He walked back over to the desk and opened up the glass tank, lowering the sharp scalpel to the spider menacingly; as Alfred's hand neared the spider, it lunged forward to sink its poisonous fangs into the flesh of his wrist, but was unsuccessful as Alfred immediately snapped his hand back and growled at the spider.

"How dare you!" he snarled and stabbed the scalpel directly into the centre of the spider's thorax, impaling it in what could only be unbareable agony. Both Alfred and Alexia watched with a sadistic smile upon their lips and a morbid glee flashing in their eyes as the spider struggled in vain to free itself of the sharp blade that was deep enough to pass through its body fully. Alfred soon began to shake the spider around, Alexia laughing in amusment behind him, playing with it like a ragdoll and occasionally slamming it into the side of the tank, splattering its yellow blood all over the sides of the tank. The force that Alfred span the spider at and how deep the blade had pierced the spider eventually split it in half, its head and thorax lay in one corner, the legs curling over it and growing stiff with rigor-mortis.

Alfred chuckled in delight and picked up the two halves of the spider, discarding them in a nearby bin. "It is done, my dear sister," he said, turning to her and bowing politely.

Alexia walked up to him and kissed him affectionately on the cheek, causing him to blush immensely. "Thank you, my loyal soldier," she said gratefully, her ruby lips spreading into a kind and loving smile.

Her gaze soon shifted towards the dead queen ant and her expression turned to one of melancholy, feeling her joyous mood at the spider's death slowly ebb away. Her brother's expression mimiced her own, him knowing full well her feelings on ants and how much seeing the dead queen ant had affected her.

Out of all life on Earth, Alexia found that she was most fond of ants, more specifically their lifestyle and the queen, because it closey related to her own life; finding them to be an ideal concept for her to study, she spent much of her childhood researching on ants and their ecology. From what she read and learned from what current knowledge they had, it seemed that the life of ants all revolved around their queen and it had to be subservient to her in order for them to thrieve and live on. The soldiers, workers, the entire hives, every creature that lived in the hive was the queen's slaves throughout their entire existence. And the reason they were so subservient to her and could be used so was because they were all expendable and easily replacable as long as the queen lived, for she was the birth mother of al her loyal followers and could just as easily reproduce more to increase the numbers that their hive had. However, once the queen died, the hive died with her as the worker or soldier ants lacked the ability to reproduce and increase their numbers, thus meaning that the rest of hive will slowly die out and become extinct, leaving behind a dirty masoleumn to commerate their existence.

And this was the same way that the ignorant masses acted towards her, as queen of the hive. Everywhere she travelled, there were always the insignificant people, the workers and soldiers, who dedicated their lives and energy towards her advance and thrive in live, doing whatever she commanded them to do, following through without question, reluctance or hesistation. In the university, her home and now here in the corporation, every person was working on something that she had ordered them to do, doing what she commanded of them and always with fierce devotion, despite the fact that most of them lacked any proper intelligence whatsoever.

_It is because I am the most important creature they have ever seen. I am the queen of this hive of a planet that we reside on and they know that my existence will carry on their's. My life is of absolute necessary to each and everyone of them._

But she still felt the deepest regret for the queen ant's death, since her existence had now ended, she would just be abandoned and left to rot whilst the rest of her hive slowly died out with her, leaving nothing but an empty tomb to show for her live. A terrible thing for something so important.

However, she needed a suitable specimen to work with and her brother had provided her with one; this woud be the first time she had ever used her most favourite creature in her work; for this dead monarch of the hive, to take part in such important work of another monarch was a worthy funeral.

"Are you alright, Alexia?" Alfred asked, his face drenched with concern.

Alexia sighed and put on another loving smile for her brother. "It is of no concern. I am just wondering what I shall find with it," she replied simply.

Alfred walked to the surgery table and picked up a pair of latex gloves, handing them to his sister. "You never know until you try, dear sister," he stated.

Alexia's smile widened and took the gloves from him. "You are right Alfred. Let's get started." She pointed to the tools on the rack standing next to the surgery table. "Hand me a scalpel," she ordered.

Whilst Alfred looked amongst the tools for a clean scalpel, Alexia took the queen ant's corpse and slipped it inside another of the glass tanks gently, taking great care not to damage it any further. After she lowered it to the bottom, she held out her hand and Alfred placed a clean, smaller scalpel into her open palm. She gently sliced open the soft undertissue of the stomach to reach the ant's internal organs and gently pulled aside the edges of the cut, revealing what looked like the queen ant's heart.

"Syringe," she ordered bluntly.

Alfred picked up a 2cm cubed syringe and handed it to her, placing in the needle part after making sure that there were no obstructions in the tip. Alexia gently lowered the syringe through the insection and plunged it gently into the exposed heart, punching slightly through the cardiac muscle, and pushed on the plunger, releasing it slowly to fill the syringe up with a greenish-yellow blood.

"Test tube" she ordered, snapping her fingers for emphasis.

Alfred pulled over a wooden test tube rack on the desk towards her, the rack holding six test tubes, each of them clean and ready to be used. Alexia removed the syringe from the queen ant's heart and placed it over the tube, pressing down on the plunger gently to force the fluid out into the test tube. Once the syringe was empty and all the fluid was safely inside the tube, she slipped it inside the atom-mass-spectrometer, hooked it up to her computer and activated it, the machine started up with a low hum and a rapid series of beeps, colorful lights shining on various parts to show the machine was functioning properly.

She pulled up the simple metal chair to her desk and sat down in front of the computer, turning on the screen to a plush background of rolling hills under a sunny, clear sky, and opened up the examination program. The screen changed to a dark green color, a small dark square in the right side of the screen with several smaller white boxes lined next to it, each of varying size.

"Sample number TS-023. Scanning started," the voice of the Red Queen announced.

A silver bar appeared on the screen, slowly beginning to fill up with a light blue color, a percentage meter underneath beginning to increase as the bar was filled with the light blue color. After a couple of minutes of waiting and the twins talking to each other about certain things they liked, the machine let out a high pitched beep and an image of a viral molecule appeared in the black box, several equations appearing in the white boxes next to the box.

"Substance contains unknown viral compound. DNA and protein sequence has no match to any information stored in Archives. Estimated time of existence, 1200 BC," the Red Queen informed them.

Alexia seemingly found herself drawn into this ancient virus, something about it making her thoughts accelerate to incredible speeds as she realized what the potential of this could mean for her goals. This virus that she had uncovered in the queen ant's corpse was unlike any another organism that anyone had ever discovered or yet to discover, making it something unknown and new for them to use, meaning that it's potential was yet to be touched upon. And since it was inside the queen ant, that meant that she could find the DNA trait in its genetic code that made the entire hive subservient to queen ants.

Since the entire was born from the queen ant, the only conclusion was that there was a genetic trait in the queen ant's DNA that was passed down into her children which made her children totally devoted to her. And as this virus seemed to have been laying dormant inside the queen ant's body for centuries, that would mean it may have adapted to coincide with the queen ant's DNA and may have been able to acquire the 'monarchy' trait.

_And if that is true, I will finally become the goddess I was destined to be._

Alexia knew that she was destined for godhood, that her life was to be a deity and worshipped by all those beneath and she now had a method of obtaining that which she was destined for, thanks to her dear brother. And she now felt giddy and euphoric, her body wrapped tightly in joy and mirth at what she would soon be able to accomplish.

"Alfred! Have a look at this!" she called enthusiastically.

Alfred walked over and looked at the computer intently for a few seconds before he looked back at his sister curiously.

"What does this mean?" he asked, confusion etched in his voice.

Alexia hugged him gently, her arms looping around his shoulders and kissed him on his forehead. "It means, dear brother, that you have provided me with the greatest possible item for me to work with. You have provided us with a means of keeping the Ashford legacy alive for millenia to come," she told him affectionately.

Alfred beamed brightly in mirth and joy. "I have? Then, I am glad that I have been helpful," he replied, feeling embarassed.

Alexia returned his smile. "Of course you have." She then let go of him and clapped her hands together eagerly. "But, if we are to use this new virus, we first need to find some way of making it more powerful, due to its reduced state of having been dormant for several millenia," she explained, tapping her chin in thought and pacing around the room.

Alfred scratched his head, obviously deep in thought, for a few seconds before he spoke up.

"What about the Mother Virus?" he asked abruptly.

Alexia's eye widened in sudden realization and stopped her pacing. "What was that you just said?" she asked, snapping her head towards him.

Alfred sat in another chair and rubbed his hands together nervously, looking to the floor as he couldn't face his sister's intense stare. "Well, before he helped to create Umbrella incorporated, our grandfather had discovered a very powerful virus that had the ability to change an organism's genetic structure to increase its power and capabilities tenfold. I thought that maybe, if we were to utilize the Mother Virus in your work, then maybe it could give you a greater chance of fulfilling your dreams. But, it's up to, dear sister," he explained.

Alfred's words sunk into Alexia's mind and quelled her swirling thoughts, bringing her mind down to a slower pace until her thoughts settled on a single prospect. If she could successfully combined the Mother Virus with this ancient virus that she had just discovered in the queen ant's corpse, then maybe she would be able to create a strain that coud infect a living human being's DNA and give her the ability to control it. And if that virus had accumulate some of the genetic traits that were present in ant DNA, then if she could control the virus infections in other people, they would all be subservient to her will alone.

_If I can perfect this new virus and use it in myself, I can become the TRUE queen of the hive and have total dominance over everything on this planet. I can fulfill my destiny._

She smiled triumphantly at her brother. "That is a brilliant suggestion!" she exclaimed.

Alfred's expression brightened up and he leapt to his feet immediately, walking towards the door of her office. "Well, I better go see the Laboratory Manager and have the sample brought here quickly. We best get started on your work as soon as possible," he stated, hurrying out the door. He put his hand on the doorknob and stopped, turning back to his twin sibling. "Do you have all the equipment you need for this experiment?" he asked, in a concerned tone of voice.

Alexia nodded. "I have the equipment I need. All I require is a sample of the Mother Virus," she answered.

Alfred nodded and dashed out of the room, letting the door swing slowly shut behind him. When the door clicked shut, Alexia back over to her desk and began to set up her equipment for her new project, taking out all the textbooks she had on ants and their ecology, and set up the spectrometer so that the combination of the two viruses could go smoothly.

_This is the start of earning my dreams._

And she had already thought of the perfect name to go with this project, the name that would describe her future role as a ruler and supreme dictator over everything on Earth, to be the one creature that al would bask to, the one whom all would serve and cherish for eternities to pass. Yet, it was to comemmorate the other goddess that she was descended from, the one who started her noble birthright years ago, the one being that everyone claimed she resembled in everyway and whose name had been recognised for decades in starting their great family.

The project was to be called Tyrant-Veronica...

October 31st, Halloween, 1982. 9:34 p.m.

For all ordinary civilians around the road, this was a joyous day of fun and frights, of sweets and scares, of candy and creeps. Houses were decorated with eerie candlelights inside carved pumpkinheads, children wandered throughout the streets of every town to knock on their neighbourhood doors for sweets, chanting the widely known words 'Trick or Treat'. Every child was dressed in costume of a monster that they heard from stories and the television, playing games as they attempted to scare their friends and family for enjoyment. All the people on Earth took it on themselves to enjoy such an occasion, despite the amount of toothaches and nightmares they woud gain from the day.

But for those who worked for Umbrella, who knew what they really did, it was never a joyous occasion. For unlike the rest of the global populace, they knew that monsters were real, could be real and that they were the ones who created them. To them, such an occasion was just a grim reminder of the truth that they had come to realize and fear.

And this particular year was not very pleasant for them because, in a remote facility on the moutainous island of Crete, an incident had occurred.

A Mii Mi-14 helicopter flew over the Idi Rnage of the moutainous island, the pilots keeping the helicopter on its course for the LZ whilst the engineer kept the chopper running, the usual business for the crew of the aircraft. The thrity-two USF soldiers in the back kept quiet as ever, making no sound at all that they were seated in the cabin, save for the slow breathing as each of them mentally prepared themselves for their mission.

HUNK was no different from the rest, seat calmly in the back and checking over his weapons to make sure that he was combat-ready. He carried a Heckler & Koch HK33 with two spare clips, each holding a maximum of 40 rounds, a Daewoo USAS-12 combat shotgun, with three spare 20 round drum-magazines and a Glock 17 pistol with two spare clips; all of the weapons were cleaned and in good condition, so he was more than ready for the mission.

It was just another normal mission for him, like all the others he had been on previously. Escaped infection, renegade B.O.Ws, quickly in, rescue any survivors, recover all the data, activate the self-destruct system and reach the extraction point, that's what he had come to expect from his missions. He still held the position of Alpha-4 amongst a squad of six, with Bravo, Charlie and Delta each containing six members as well. All in all, just another normal mission for him.

_Except for that Russian kid we have tagging along._

HUNK allowed his eyes to travel around the chopper until he spotted the kid seated amongst his colleagues in Alpha squad, looking confident and eager to start, a smirk perched on his lips as he twirled his combat knife expertly in his fingers. He looked to be about 19, white hair, lean muscular build and was dressed in a forest camouflage uniform, a mixture of green and brown, with a black Kevlar vest and combat boots. He was armed with a Heckler & Koch G4 and MP5 with a Smith & Wesson Model 59 sidearm, each with three clips, and a Beretta 21 Bobcat concealed in his left boot.

HUNK didn't know who the kid, having never met until the start of mission when Colonel McVarian had informed that they would be taking him along for the mission, though it was never specified why. But HUNK knew that the kid obviously had some form of military training if he was going to be sent on a mission such as this.

The kid looked up and met HUNK's eyes, glaring at him intently as if offering up a competition for him to challenge. HUNK returned it fully, showing that he accepted whatever challenge he had given.

"Approaching the dropzone. Prepare for landing," the pilot announced through the headset.

The engineer walked over to a console on the side of the chopper and entered a code on the keypad, lowering a screen from the roof of the chopper to face the soldiers. The screen blinked and the face of Colonel McVarian appeared on the screen.

"Okay people, here's the situation. As of 15 minutes ago, this facility was attacked by an unknown enemy force, highly equipped, well trained and greatly informed. They had managed to storm the entire facility and gain complete control over it, anihilating all the personel on site. As of yet, they haven't made any demands or threats against us and are not showing any signs of leaving their current positions," the colone explained.

"How many troops are on sight?" Alpha-1 asked.

"Between twenty to thirty men, all armed. We don't know how many are outside the facility or inside," he answered.

"What's the facility's layout?" HUNK asked, causing everyone to look at him.

The screen changed to a holographic 3-D image of the facility.

"This facility is located deep inside a cave on the face of a cliff on the southern edge of the range. It consists of four floors, the first floor holds the dormitories and cafeteria, the second floor is the secondary laboratories where our pharmaceutical products are made, the third floor is the main lab where the T-Virus experiments are conducted. And the fourth floor is the specimen storage area and where the self-destruct system can be found." The pointer highlighted the small room at the bottom of the schematic, magnifying the image to reveal a large metal pillar in the centre with a computer console placed in its side. "Your objectives are the same as on your previous missions. Reach the laboratories, recover any data and transmit it to the Red Queen, rescue any survivors, activate the self-destruct system and redenvous back at the LZ for pick-up," the colonel ordered.

HUNK glanced over at the kid. "What about the new recruit?" he asked, obtaining another glare from the kid.

"Sergeant Nicholai Ginovaef is here on a classified assignment from the Monitor organisation. He is assigned to Alpha Squad effective immediately and is under direct orders from Colonel Sergei Vladimir himself, so he is joining you on this mission," the colonel explained.

HUNK glanced over at the kid, Nicholai, to see a smug smirk spread across his face, seeming impressed with himself. HUNK also felt slightly impressed with Nicholai since he was under direct orders from the director of Monitor, Sergei Vladimir, which meant he had to have some exceptional military training if he was to have such praise from a grizzled war veteran and to have a position in the organisation at such a young age.

_He's a bit like me I suppose. So hopefully he won't get in my way and just focus on the mission._

"LZ in sight. Get ready for landing," the pilot announced.

HUNK stood up and approached the hatch, standing behind Alpha-1 with Alpha-3 next to him. He looked at the red light above the hatch, waiting for it to change to green so that he could get this done quickly; in and out in very little time as possible, that was how he did his missions and this would be no exception. The light turned yellow and Alphas 1 and 2 slid open the hatch-

-only to receive a hail of gunfire from the moutain range, Alpha 2 falling back onto the helicopter floor, bleeding from several bullet wounds in the chest, whilst Alpha-1 slumped lifelessly out of the chopper, falling silently to the rocks below.

"Report!! What's happening!?" McVarian bellowed over the radio, his concerned voice being heard over everyone's head-sets.

The pilot pressed his hand to his head-set and yelled, "Sir, we are under attack!! The enemy is firing at us!! We-"

"RPG!!" the co-pilot bellowed, pointing at a rocket soaring towards the chopper.

"Hang on!!" the pilot shouted, grabbing the joy-stick and giving it a sudden jerk to the left, causing the chopper to bank left.

HUNK grabbed onto the side of the hatch for dear life, clutching the metal as the wind attempted to force him outside the chopper to his death. He reached out with his other hand and felt someone grab hold of him, seeing that it was Nicholai, currently buckled into one of the seats, holding onto him with both hands. He pulled HUNK with all his strength towards another seat next to him and tossed him towards, his arms straining against HUNK's weight and the force of the wind.

"Get strapped in!!" HUNK ordered, buckling himself securely in the seat.

The rest of the soldiers hurried to their seats and strapped themselves in tightly as the helicopter continued to swerve and dodge the incoming rockets fired by the enemy. However, when the helicopter took a nose dive to avoid the rockets, one man wasn't strapped in yet and flew up to the ceiling, his head turning at an awkward angle and his neck broke with a loud snap that could be heard around the cabin.

HUNK grimaced slightly at the man's death and pressed his hand to his head-set. "Can you get us close to the LZ!?" he yelled.

"No!! There's too much enemy fire coming from the facility's perimeter! We-"

Whatever the pilot had to say next was cut off by a sharp explosion, a smell of electrics burning and a loud mechanical whine. The cabin made a sudden lurch downwards, everyone being thrown about in their seats from the strong movement.

"Shit! This is NightHawk Five!! We've been hit by an RPG!! Sustained considerable damage to the main rotor!! Can't maintain altitude!!" the pilot yelled into the radio urgently.

HUNK tightened his strap and clutched onto his seat. "Brace for impact!!" he commanded.

All the soldiers checked the straps on their seats and looped their arms through each other armpits, their expression most likely grim and afraid behind their gas-mask visors. HUNK looped his arm through Nicholai's armpit and clutched the edge of his seat as the helicopter continued to go down at a dangerous speed.

"HEADS UP!!" the pilot bellowed.

HUNK closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth together.

_This will be rough._

The helicopter rushed towards the cliff at an uncontrollable speed and crashed onto an outgrowing ledge, barely skimming the edge to hit the ground. It scraped along the ledge, churning up dirt and rocks in torrents outside the open hatch door, metallic squeals and sparks flying. The scream of the dying engine echoed throughout the cabin and the thick, burning smoke smothered and choked the soldiers inside, despite the gas masks they wore. Branches outside snapped and cracked against the metal body as the chopper plowed through nearby bushes and trees until it came to a sudden crash against a cliff wall.

It collided straight into the solid rock wall, the windshield shattering and the glass blown inside the cockpit, hacking up the pilots in their seats, spraying the cockpit with blood and minced organs. The entire cabin lurched forward and bent upwards at an angle, throwing all the soldiers around roughly in their seats, several of which had their bones shattered and organs punctured.

And then, everything was still and quiet. The rotors settled down with a low moan, the engine finally dying out with a strangled gasp of metal and a small cloud of black smoke rose up from the rotor blades. Except for the coughs of a few survivors.

HUNK shook his head to remove the ringing in his ears and fog from his vision, his heart pounding at a rapid pace, his lungs stuffed with grime and smog. His entire body throbbed and hurt all over that he practically felt bruised everywhere on his body, barely finding himself able to move his sore limbs, although miraculously, he found that none of his bones were broken or his organs damaged.

He slowly raised his head, resisting the pounding headache he felt, and glanced around the helicopter. He was suspended on the left side of the cabin, his seat a few feet above the gaping hole that opened onto the rock floor of the cliff, the hatch door still wide open, letting in the thin, pale shafts of moonlight. The other soldiers were completely still in their seats, making no effort to move from their seats, their chests not rising or falling with breath, blood staining their black uniforms.

HUNK shook his head at the sight and to clear his head of the throbbing pain, unbuckling his straps and dropped to the floor, grunting from the twinge of the pain that soared through his legs on the impact of the landing. He carefully rose to his feet, ignoring the cramps and bruises on his body, and walked outside of the door.

The moon was high in a clear sky, casting little light onto the darkened island beneath it. The ledge he stood on stretched far to the left and right before it dropped into a sheer cliff; the path of destruction that the crashed helicopter left behind was easy to see, dirt and rocks scattered around the area, bushes and trees pulverised by the spinning rotors, and a ditch had been formed from where the chopper had scraped along the floor.

_I knew this would be rough._

"You still live, Agent HUNK," a young voice with a thick Russian accent stated dryly, as if talking about a simple subject like the weather.

HUNK looked behind him-

-to see Nicholai sat on a small log, his rifle nestled in his lap and a simple ration biscuit in his hand, half of it having been eaten. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smiled at HUNK.

"But, with your reputation, there is little surprise," he remarked.

HUNK stared back impassively through his gas-mask. "The Death cannot die," he claimed, quoting his famous motto.

Nicholai's smile vanished. "Then I hope you are ready for the mission." He got to his feet. "As of now, you and I are the only survivors from the crash, by some form of luck. Our rough landing will not have gone unnoticed, so we need to find the entrance quickly and get inside the labs. Also, the radio was damaged in the crash, so there will be no chance of calling in to report for evacuation," Nicholai explained, loading his weapon.

"Then I guess we need to find another way out of the facility after our mission is complete," HUNK stated, checking his weapons, seeing that none were damaged in the crash.

Nicholai nodded. "Let's get moving."

He walked over to the cliff face, picked up some dirt in his hands, rubbed it into his palms and began to scale the cliff, climbing quickly and quietly like a panther. HUNK felt slightly impressed with Nicholai's apparent ease and calmness in the situation, but he had to remember that Colonel Vladimir had assigned him here so he had to have the necessary skills for the mission.

HUNK walked over to the cliff and began to scale, his fingers clasping hold of a slight crack in the rockface, hoisting himself him up to reach for another handhold further above with his left hand, planitng his feet firmly against the rock. He followed in Nicholai's path, grabbing hold of any handholds that he had previously used to climb higher, placing his feet in the spots that Nicholai found and scaled at a slow pace up the cliff.

It took them a good quarter of an hour to reach the top, the edge of the cliff coming into sight, bushes and tree roots jutting out from the rock, grass peeking through the slight cracks in the dirt and rock. Nicholai reached the top first and hoisted himself up-

-but suddenly lowered himself, his hand slowly reaching for his knife.

"What is it?" HUNK asked in a hushed tone.

"Three sentries. Each armed with FAMAS and P7s. Definitely special forces," Nicholai answered, keeping his voice down.

HUNK looked around the cliff face and found another handhold above his head. He reached up with his right hand, grabbed hold and hoisted themselves up to look over the edge.

_This will be a challenge._

At the top of the cliff was a large cave that opened into a dark, damp tunnel, water dripping down from the stalactites that hung from the ceiling. And in front of the entrance were three soldiers, dressed in a camouflage uniform consisting of a mixture of greys and blacks, carrying fully loaded FAMAS and having what looked like RPGs rested against the cave entrance. One of the guards was currenty pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, his eyes keen and alert, whilst the other two busied themselves with playing a game of poker.

One of the soldier's radio began to let out a hiss and the soldier answered it.

"Yes sir. The entrance is secure," he stated.

There was a moment's pause as the radio let out a garbled speech from the other user.

"Well, sir, Umbrella was quick in sending out their Special Forces. A helicopter had arrived to deliver some of their men, but we have shot it down. No survivors have been found and if there were any, they are dead now," the soldier explained.

Another pause as the radio released more garbled speech.

"Yes, sir. The helicopter is on its way. ETA, one hour maximum," the soldier replied.

More garbled speech.

"Yes sir. We will keep the exit secure for you, the B.O.Ws and our agent. Over and out," the soldier stated, turning off the radio.

HUNK narrowed his eyes at the mention of the word 'agent', running through all the possibilities that that word would mean, none of them at all pleasant. The best he could come up with was that they had a spy in the facility, one with enough authority to help the enemy gain control of the facility and had enough scientific knowledge to help them acquire suitable specimens.

_That might explain my friend here from Monitor._

HUNK had heard rumours about the Monitor organisation, about what they really did for Umbrella and themselves. Most say that they are spies sent by the higher-ups to observe and report on what each employee was up to in the corporation. Others said that they were cleaners, elite soldiers trained to destroy all evidence to prevent anything from leading back to Umbrella, which included assassination of suspicious and traitorous employees, if their orders say so.

_I'll have to ask 'Comrade' Nicholai about his objectives in this mission._

HUNK lowered himself from the edge and looked over to Nicholai. "They have a chopper coming to pick them up in an hour, along with some of Umbrella's bio-weapons and an 'agent'" he explained.

Nicholai nodded. "Then we best get started," he retorted.

He pulled a rock off from the cliff face and flung it towards some nearby bushes, immediately pulling out his knife afterwards and placing it between his teeth, sacling the wall quickly. HUNK looked over the edge to see the three guards all looking towards the bushes, completely unaware of who was behind them. Nicholai hoisted himself up onto the edge, circled around the lone soldier, taking his knife from between his teeth, creeping towards the guard carefully. Once he reached the guard, he clasped his hand over the soldier's mouth and swiftly slit his throat, looping his arms under the dead soldier's, dragging the body away as the soldier's blood drenched his uniform.

HUNK hoisted himself up, rolled away from the edge, lay down on his stomach and quickly drew his Glock 17, firing a single shot into each of their heads. He got to his feet and looked behind him to see Nicholai appear from behind a row of bushes, wiping his knife on his sleeve as he strode towards HUNK.

"Unit 3, come in. Gunshots were fired in your area. What's your sit-rep? Repeat, unit 3, gunfire in your area, respond over," the radio barked.

HUNK picked up the radio and hit the 'Respond' button. "Unit 3, reporting in, sir," he answered.

"Unit 3, gunfire was heard in your area. What's happening up there? Over."

HUNK cursed under his breath. If they had heard the gunshots already, that means that there were some guarding the elevator. "Apologies, sir. We had a weapons malfunction. No injuries. Area is still secure. False alarm," he lied, hoping that his bluff was called.

"Very well. Unit 2 is on its way to relieve you. Get yourselves to the elevator and come down to the mess hall for your meal. Out," the radio barked out before the static died out.

"Dammit," he cursed, throwing down the radio over the edge. He pulled out his rifle and turned to Nicholai. "We are about to have company," he stated calmly.

Nicholai nodded, smirking. "Then let's prepare a proper greeting," he retorted.

Both of them walked into the cave entrance, their footsteps echoing of the jagged stone walls, penetrating the eerie gloom of the cave. HUNK kept his weapon raised and senses on high-alert as he crept forward, taking light steps to lessen the echo; the last thing he needed to do was alert the enemy to his presence and receive a bullet in his head as a reward. And the darkness of the cave did very little to ease the tenson he felt, since he couldn't see anything five metres in front of him. Plus, turning on a flashlight wouldn't help matters much since all it would do was provide an open target for the enemy.

He glanced over at Nicholai, barely able to notice him at all through the shrouding darkness, to see that his forehead was dotted with sweat and his hands were clenched tightly on his rifle. HUNK smirked slightly behind his gas-mask, feeling somewhat relieved that even the Russian kid was capable of experiencing fear like everyone else. At least he had the assurance that he had a human working with him.

They continued trekking through the cave until they came to a pair of elevator doors set inside the stone wall, a flourescent light turned on above the frame, illuminating the number bar set in the frame-

-which slowly begun to rise up to their floor, most likely carrying the relief for the unit that they had killed.

HUNK stood to one side of the elevator, Nicholai on the other, his knife ready in his right hand. The elevator slowly continued up to their floor, the traditional hum of its machinery becoming louder as it came closer with its payload. The hum soon began to grow lower and came to a stop with a short high-pitched ping, the doors sliding open and three armed soldiers stepped out, only for one to receive the butt of HUNK's rifle to his face, shattering his nose and knocking him back into the elevator. Another one received the blade of Nicholai's knife in his throat, his hands reaching up to keep the blood inside his throat at it seeped through his fingers.

The third soldier spun at HUNK and swiped at him with his gun, knocking the rifle out of his hands. HUNK responded with a roundhouse kick to the chest, causing the soldier to bend over, gasping for breath; he quickly looped his arms around the soldiers head in a head-lock and twisted it roughly to the side, causing the bone to break with an almighty snap. The third soldier attempted to stand, raising his weapon to fire at them, but Nicholai rushed forward and plunged his knife deep in the soldier's chest, the blade piercing the soldier's heart, causing blood to pour from his lips and his body to spasm for a few seconds before falling still.

HUNK grabbed his rifle and stepped in the elevator, pushing the button for them to head into the laboratories. The doors slid shut and the hum started again as the lift made its descent into the mountains towards Umbrella's Crete facility.

Nicholai pulled his knife out of the soldier's corpse and twirled it in his fingers. "Some highly trained 'Special' Forces. They are too arrogant to suspect any danger whatsoever and prepare themselves for any possibility, poor excuses for soldiers," he remarked, scowling down at the body.

HUNK dropped his rifle on the floor and spun around hoisting Nicholai up by his neck, his Glock 17 out and pressed against his forehead. "I need answers," he stated, his voice growing cold.

Nicholai's scowl deepened. "If you are pointing that pistol at me, I suggest you use it," he warned, glaring into HUNK's hardened gaze.

HUNK pressed the gun harder into his forehead. "What are your mission objectives?" he asked.

"Classified," Nicholai evasively answered.

"Bulshit!! You are with Monitor and I am with the USF, we work for Umbrella. And we were sent here to accomplish our missions, different they may be. So you know mine and I want to know yours," HUNK demanded.

Nicholai growled at HUNK, his eyes narrowing further and his expression turning into one of extreme irritance. "Very well. This facility wasn't conquered by force, but by betrayal. Someone inside this facility's staff was working for a rival corporation to Umbrella and allowed their forces into the laboratories to steal the T-Virus research. My mission was to find the spy, interrogate him to find out what he knows of his employer and what they are after from Umbrella's work, and elimnate him afterwards," he explained.

HUNK narrowed his eyes slightly. "How do I know you aren't lying to me?"

Nicholai raised his knife to HUNK's throat. "How dare you?" he snarled, "My father has been loyal to Colonel Vladimir for years and I shall remain forever loyal to him for my life. And since he works for Umbrella, my loyalty shall remain with them, they know I am trustworthy." He narrowed his eyes at HUNK. "And what of you 'John Doe'? The man of no past? No one knows who you really are, what you are really like, nothing is known about you except your anonymous indentities and that you work for us. How do we know YOU can be trusted?"

HUNK pressed his gun harder into Nicholai's forehead that his head was being pushed roughly against the elevator walls. "My loyalties are to Colonel McVarian and Umbrella. I at least owe them that for what they have done for me in the past. Because of them, I have a purpose and for that, I owe them my life," he explained.

Nothing was said after that point, the elevator falling into a suspenseful, the two soldiers pointing their weapons at each other and glaring full force in each other's faces, testing to see who would react first. After a few moments had passed with none of them saying a word to each other, Nicholai suddenly smiled.

"It seems we are very much alike, in both skill and motive, 'Mr Death'," he joked, adding his code-name seem to bring more humor in the subject.

HUNK chuckled behind his gas-mask visor. "Well, you may have a point, 'comrade'," he retorted.

Nicholai sheathed his knife in its holster. "Since we seem to have a mutual understanding of each other and work for the same people, lets work together to accomplish our goals." He held out his right hand. "Agreed?"

HUNK glanced at Nicholai's then back up to his face, looking for any trace of a lie and found none. He holstered his pistol and clasped Nicholai's hand, shaking it. "Agreed."

He gently lowered Nicholai to the floor and picked up his rifle, turning to face the doors, waiting for them to open. He had a job to do and was going to accomplish it by any means necessary, that was the way he worked...

Nicholai rubbed his collar for a few seconds, his throat throbbing slightly from the hold and glanced over at HUNK momentarily. He hadn't been expecting that from the USF soldier and had been surprised that he would have any reason to doubt Nicholai's loyalties to the company. After all, his family were in debted to Colonel Vladimir and Nicholai was not going to betray that trust for anything.

_Though in such circumstances, it is good that he is cautious of what could happen._

Though it was no surprise that John Doe was cautious, since the mission had already taken a turn for the worse. Their helicopter had been shot down, the rest of the troops were dead, they were cut off from support in hostile territory, a traitor lay in wait inside the facility and there were still the caged B.O.Ws to worry about. But such dangers were common to Nicholai and he was well prepared for them, being under the tutelage of Sergei Vladimir had taught him to be aware and prepared for such things in his work.

Colonel Sergei Vladimir had been something of a childhood idol for Nicholai ever since he heard the stories about him from his father. His father shared the same idolship for the Soviet Colonel, his admiration evident in his voice when telling the stories, which enthralled Nicholai all the more. All the stories were involved around his father's servitude in Colonel Vladimir during the Second World War, specifically during the house-to-house bloody battles in Stalingrad and how he had earned the reputation of being the man that was a living symbol to the Soviet flag; the hammer that smashed his enemies and the sickle that hacked up anything in his path.

So when Sergei Vladimir had approached Nicholai's father to request that Nicholai join the Umbrella corporation under Sergei's leadership, he was happy to take up the position and was soon brought into the fold. And for five years, he had been trained in combat, espionage and military tactics by Sergei Vladimir whilst in the employ of Umbrella's Monitor Organisation and the Spetnaz. As part of his employment in Monitor, Colonel Vladimir and Lord Spencer knew they needed an agent inside the Spetnaz to keep taps on what happened in the Soviet Government, so they sent Nicholai in under the guise as a new recruit. And during his time with Spetnaz, he had learnt much on interrogations, spying, assassinations and undercover operations, which he now used to help benefit his work with Umbrella.

_And if I find our little 'Judas', a little of my methods should be useful in prying some information out of him._

In his time, he had learnt many brutal ways of loosening one's tongue to acquire useful information from certain individuals and had been put through the mental training of coping with such things; after all, the Spetnaz's KGB division had used most of these techiniques before in their line of work.

"Get ready," HUNK advised, jarring Nicholai from his thoughts, and raised his rifle at the doors.

Nicholai raised his rifle at the door and crouched low, not wanting to make himself an easy target for the men outside the doors, HUNK following suit. The elevator soon came to a stop with the high-pitched ping and the doors slid open to reveal a simple stainless-steel hallway, with several ventilation covers inserted in the floor and ceiling, showing large water pipes running through them. Nicholai leapt out and faced towards the left whilst HUNK took the right, both weapons raised and aimed down the hall, looking for any sight of the enemy.

The hallway stretched for some time in both directions until it reached a dead end, several doors lining both sides of the hallway in both directions, leading into what looked like the dormitories. And opposite the elevator was a pair of double doors which led into the cafeteria, from where could be heard the sounds of many voices. Nicholai and HUNK approached the doors, standing at either side, counting to three silently before they both kicked in the door.

Inside the cafertia were several clean metal tables placed around the room in rows of four, each with two metal benches on either side with the food counters and the single metal that led inside on the left hand wall, and the tray racks placed against the right hand wall, and another set of double doors were at the opposite corner of the room. At least a dozen soldiers were currently seated at the tables, their weapons placed down on the floor since they weren't expecting an attack, food dished out onto the plates in front of them. They looked up and gasped in shock as they saw the two Umbrella soldiers standing in the doorway, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open, some having even leapt to their feet.

"Knock knock," HUNK quipped before he opened fire, hitting one man directly in his forehead, his brains splattering against the table and soldiers behind him as his body fell lifelessly to the floor. Nicholai opened fire and killed two men, one with a burst directly to his heart and another by a shot to the neck, blood spurting from their bodies in rapid torrents as they crumpled to the floor, clutching their fatal wounds with what little life they had left.

The other troops leapt into action, quickly reaching for their weapons and overturning one of the tables to create some cover or leaping behind the food counters. HUNK and Nicholai ducked back behind the doorway as the soldiers opened fire on them, the elevator doors becoming sprayed and dented by bullets, the sounds of automatic gunfire echoing throughout the metallic halls.

The barrage lasted for a few minutes before the soldiers had to reload, giving HUNK enough time to bring out his combat shotgun and for both of the Umbrella troops to fire inside. HUNK peppered the room with buckshot, killing three unfortunate men who had yet to duck back behind cover whilst Nicholai took careful aim at the men behind the counter, killing two men with a single shot to their heads through the glass of the counter's display.

The soldiers soon reloaded and unleashed another barrage at the two Umbrella troops, causing them to duck back behind the walls as the bullets flew past them and pinged against the elevator doors. After a few minutes, the soldiers started to reload again and HUNK rushed in, leaping over the table and the soldiers crouched behind it, performing a roll once he touched the ground, coming back onto his knees, spinning around and rapidly fired at the soldiers, decimating them. Nicholai rushed inside and fired at the counter, unable to hit any of the three laying prone behind it, as HUNK spun the overturned table around to face the counter.

Nicholai continued to fire, counting down the rounds until he reached at one round left in the clip and searched for anything that could help them. He looked around the entire cafeteria for anything that could help them until he caught sight of a large white tank behind the cooker, seeing the word 'FLAMMABLE' imprinted on it in big red letters aong with a fire symbol.

"Fire in the hole," he yelled, firing at the tank.

In the split-second between the yell and the explosion, Nicholai felt himself being pulled down roughly after he fired the shot by HUNK, crashing down hard enough on the floor to bruise his knees. The explosion that happened seconds after filled the room with a tremendous 'BOOM', the sound deafening in the large room, followed by a bright white flash. Soon, the noise of the explension settled down to be replaced by the roar of flames, the stench of choking smoke and the clitter-clatter of blackened utensils falling to the floor.

Next to Nicholai, HUNK emitted a small laugh intertwined with short coughs. "That's one way to clear an area," he joked.

Nicholai chuckled in response. "Just comes with the job," he retorted dryly.

Both of them got to their feet, steadying themselves by grabbing onto the table for support, and looked over at the remains of the food counter. The explosion had destroyed the entire counter, glass and burnt pieces of metal scattered around the room, bright red flames had engulfed the counters and the troops behind it.

Nicholai and HUNK stared at the burning counter for a few minutes before they headed towards the double doors at the other end, unloading the half empty clips from their weapons and reloaded them with fresh ones. They pushed the doors open and stepped through into another hallwaay, similar to the one before, stretching in both directions towards a dead end, doors placed on both sides of the wall leading into the dormitories and an elevator opposite the doors to the cafeteria.

HUNK walked up to the doors and pushed the down button. "We best check the main lab. The enemy agent is most likely down there, getting the last of the data he intends to steal," he suggested, adjusting the sling of his rifle to fit more comfortably on his shoulder.

Nicholai cracked his knuckles. "What say we introduce ourselves?" he asked grimly.

The elevator soon arrived with a loud ping and the doors slid open, allowing HUNK and Nicholai to step inside. HUNK pushed the 'down' button and the doors slid shut again, the lift starting its descent with a low hum. Nicholai pulled out his knife and tested the blade by cutting open his thumb, making sure that the blade hadn't gone blunt from its use on the soldiers upstairs. The enemy agent was down here and Nicholai needed his equipment ready for this delicate part of squeezing a person's tongue for information, since he had to make sure that there would be no mistakes, because if there were any mistakes, he may end up accidently killing the suspect and losing a chance of gaining valuable information.

_All I need is just a few minutes to find out who he's working for and what they want, then he is of no more use alive to anyone._

The elevator soon arrived on the floor and the doors opened to reveal the main laboratories. The room was a large square block of 24-by-24, flourescent lights illuminating the entire room from above on the ceiling, metallic pipes running through the grated floor towards three rows of stasis tubes against each side of the room, a computer console placed in front of each tube and a circle of desks in the centre of the room.

HUNK pointed over his shoulder behind him then jabbed a thumb in his chest before he pointed at Nicholai and in the other direction. Nicholai nodded in understanding and crept slowly out of the elevator towards the rows of stasis tubes on the left, weapon raised, taking short and quiet footsteps so as not to make any noise on the grated floor to alert his presence, HUNK doing the same thing as he headed to the right.

Nicholai kept his eyes and ears alert for any signs of the traitor, making sure that he didn't let his guard down for a second; doing so would result in his death. He reached the first row of the stasis tubes and leaned against the first in the row, his hands gripping the weapon tightly as he edged towards the corner. In a few measured steps, he reached the corner and leapt around into the aisle, weapon raised to fire at anyone he saw.

The aisle between the rows was empty, nothing there except for the computer consoles that flashed with varying colors of light and let out a series of beeps to show that the creatures inside were still alive. He glanced up at one of the stasis tubes to see a fully-grown Hunter inside, its body floating and stationary inside the dark green fluid, sleeeping through the artificial slumber the sedatives enforced on it, for which he was gad for. Having them awake and on the lose woud be a serious inhibition on their mission , not to mention that he was pretty sure that they didn't have enough ammunition to fight all of them successfully.

"Don't move!!" a quivering male voice ordered from behind him, the cold metal of a gun barrel adding emphasis to it. "Drop your weapons!"

Nicholai felt a momentary stab of shame to his ego and a hint of self-irritation for letting himself get snuck up on like that, but decided that there was no point in self-insultation at the present moment and complied with the man's orders. He held the rifle up by the barrel in his left hand and slowly placed it on the floor, making sure that he didn't give the man any reason to shoot him.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"Umbrella," Nicholai answered simply.

"God, you assholes can't let your precious work go anywhere without a punishment to whoever is selling it off," the man snapped.

Nicholai stayed crouched on the floor, waiting for the right moment to strike. "So you admit that you betrayed us."

The man laughed. "I was never an employee to you, but to someone with far more sense and vision. What makes you think that I was an employee for you insane fools?"

Nicholai smiled. "Nothing really. Just a hunch," he stated.

"Do bad that was the last hunch a worthless child like you shall have in your life," the man declared, cocking the gun, the bullet sliding into the chamber with a click.

Nicholai immediately reacted, spinning around on the floor, sweeping his right leg out, tripping the man up, the gun clattering to the floor. Nicholai leapt up and grabbed the man by his collar, hurling him into a computer console. The man was a thin, bony man, sunken cheeks, bloodshot eyes, basically the average physique for an ordinary pencil-pushing scientist, but Nicholai was fully aware that he wasn't an ordinary scientist. And the prove he needed was from the sudden headbutt that he received, followed by a punch to the gut and to the side of his head.

Nicholai collapsed to the floor, grunting as the scientist made a run for it, his footsteps clanging against the grated floor. He groaned from the pain in his stomach as he rose to his feet and cursed himself for letting the agent get away, for screwing up badly in his mission-

-until he heard a sudden yelp and the sound of someone falling to the floor. Nicholai steadied himself by grabbing hold of the railing placed around the row of stasis tubes and staggered around the corner-

-to see HUNK standing over the scientist, his boot pressed down firmly on his chest and his pistol aimed at his head. HUNK looked up at Nicholai as he approached, his expression hidden behind his gas-mask visor.

"You should be more careful," he chided.

Nicholai scowled. "I don't need a lecture." He glanced between the agent and HUNK, nodding slowly.

HUNK nodded in response and stepped around to the head of the scientist, looping his arms underneath the agent's, dragging him to his feet. Nicholai stepped closer and looked the agent in the face, both of them glaring at each other.

"Now, I will ask you some questions and you will answer them in full detail. Otherwise, there will be nasty consequences for you," he warned.

The agent spat him in the face defiantly. "Go to hell," he snarled.

Nicholai wiped the spit from his face, glaring at the agent in irritation, and looked at HUNK. "Secure?" he asked.

HUNK nodded in understanding. "Go ahead."

Nicholai's face broke out into a cold, ruthless smile. "I warned you," he stated.

The agent's expression was as stoic as before but Nicholai could see the underlying fear lurking behind his eyes. Nicholai picked up the agent's right leg, straightened it out and brought his left foot down hard on his kneecap, shattering it in a nauseating crunch. The agent screamed in agony and pain, his leg flopping down aimlessly as the joint was destroyed amd struggled in vain to break free of HUNK's strong grip.

"Okay!! Okay!! I'll tell, I'l tell!! Just stop!!" he begged as Nicholai reached for his left leg.

Nicholai felt a moment of disappointment in the agent's lack of endurance and courage, but dismissed it. "Alright. Tell me, who is your employer?" he asked.

"The HCF!! The HCF!! I work for the HCF!!" he shouted, his eyes beginning to water up with tears of pain, his voice becoming choked with sobs.

_Well, that was a name is no surprise._

After all, the HCF was Umbrella's number one business competitor in computers, health care, medical products and bio-engineering. Ever since Lord Spencer and his colleagues had founded Umbrella, there had been several reports, threats and public denounciations made by the HCF towards them, either on their health or 'shadow' operations. And because of their increasing competition in both areas of work with Umbrella, Sergei Vladimir and Lord Spencer had made sure that all Monitor agents were informed about them and their potential threat to the corporation's endeavours.

But even if they were in competition with Umbrella over legal and illegal machinations, they should have had no idea that the T-Virus existed, so they shouldn't have attacked this facility in the first place.

"Why this facility? What were they after? Speak!" he commanded.

The agent whimpered. "They were after any source of data they could get on Umbrella's T-Virus. We had managed to acquire secret information from some of our other agents about the Tyrant-Virus' existence and our organisation wanted to acquire as much data on the project as possible, along with live samples," he explained,

Nicholai nodded. "How did you manage to find out that the T-Virus existed?" he asked.

"One of our agents in Umbrella America informed us of its existence, so we had to find out a way to steal it. Thus, we decided to take control over this facility and steal as much as the research as we could. I was to download all the data onto several disks and send them over to our HQ via the computer system, whilst the soldiers obtain some samples and specimens from the Hunter project." The agent reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small disk inside a glass case. "I have already sent the data to HQ and preset the self-destruct system to activate in the next five minutes, and to detonate in the next three minutes. This is the only remaining copy of the data," he assured.

Nicholai took the disk from the agent's hand and placed it in his trouser pocket. At least one part of the mission was accomplished, now for the other part. He nodded over to HUNK, who nodded in response and twisted the agent's neck in an awkward angle, breaking it with an almighty snap.

HUNK threw aside the corpse and picked up his rifle. "We best be hurrying. If we don't want to die in the explosion occuring in the next eight minutes, we have to find a way out," he advised.

As if on queue in a script, a hiss of static emanated from the agent's pocket.

Nicholai rummaged through the corpse's pockets until he came across a small hand-held radio, currently turned on and hissing out a wave of static from an incoming call.

"This is Alpha-45. Agent Orian, what's your status?" a voice asked, accompanied by the familiar sound of a helicopter engine.

Nicholai pressed the respond button. "This is Orian. We have a problem. All data has already been transmitted to HQ and I have the last remaining copy of the data, but we were unsuccessful in retrieving any of the samples of the T-Virus. The Hunters have managed to escape from their captivity and have wiped out a considerable number of the soldiers on site and the self-destruct system is set to detonate soon, so we need urgent pick-up," he bluffed, hoping to God that he had hid his Russian accent well enough.

"Roger that. I am on my way. Be outside in three minutes," the pilot informed them, having been convinced.

Nicholai shut off the radio and threw it aside. "We need to get outside," he ordered.

HUNK nodded. "We'l need to take out the pilot and steal the helicopter. But I can't fly a helicopter, I am a soldier, not a pilot," he stated dryly.

Nicholai shook his head, chuckling. "Strange that you don't know how to fly aircraft, what with your reputation," he joked. "I can fly the helicopter, so long as we can get rid of that pilot."

"Alright, lets go," he ordered, jogging towards the elevator with Nicholai behind him.

They hurried through the facility, going back the way they came in, through the cafeteria and dormitories, up the elevators and through the dark dank cave, running with all their might and energy so as not to miss their only way out of the area. Nicholai just hoped that it would be easy to get their hands of the chopper without damaging or losing it because they were really cutting it close with this mission.

They stopped a few inches from the cave entrance and crouched down in the darkness, looking outside to see a small helicopter waiting on the ledge, its rotor blades still on and spinning, the hatch open for any passengers and the pilot seated in the cockpit, waiting for his comrades. Nicholai drew out his rifle and pointed it at the pilot's head, taking careful aim and precision so as not to miss.

_Stay calm. Take a deep breath and focus. Concentrate on nothing else but the shot._

Nicholai felt the world drown out around of sight and sound, his vision blurring at the corner of his eyes, his ears going deaf to the wildlife calls nearby and the helicopter's still-going engine, his only attention focused clearly on the pilot. He felt his head, hands and face break out in perspiration, soaking his skin in the clear warm fluid to call down his increasingly hot skin, his finger resting tightly on the trigger, ready to pull once he was sure that he wouldn't miss. He took in a deep breath, held it, steadied his hands, closed one eye, the other focused down the sight towards the pilot-

_There._

-and fired a single shot. Time seem to slow down when the shot went off that Nicholai thought he could see the bullet soaring on its trajected path after being fired. The pilot turned his head, looking to see who had fired, his facial expression looking shocked before the bullet reached impact, shattering through the glass and into the pilot's head, just above his left eye. The pilot's head snapped back sharply, his body crashing and slumping back into his seat, blood and gore splashing the inside of the windshield.

Nicholai and HUNK were immediately on their feet, dashing for the open door and leaping inside once the pilot had been hit, hurrying to get out of the area and back to HQ. Nicholai hefted the corpse out of the seat and threw it to HUNK, who in turn, pushed it out the door before slamming it shut.

"Now!! Get this thing in the air!!" he shouted over the engine, strapping himself into one of the seats.

Nicholai leapt into the pilot seat and placed the headphones on over his ears, checking his pocket to see he still carried the disk and quickly grabbed the joystick, raising the helicopter into the air and away from the facility towards the horizon.

"Mission accomplished," he exclaimed.

"Mission accomplished," HUNK agreed, looking out the cabin window.

As the helicopter flew away, the self-destruct system activated, the alarms blaring in empty halls, the voice of the Red Queen speaking to no one but dead men, the White Queen already beginning the countdown. Then when the countdown reached zero, the generator increased its power output and detonated the explosive inside itself, causing the entire bottom of the facility to collapse. Then the other explosives placed throughout the complex detonated and brought the rest of the facility caving down itself, all the technology and creatures inside, dead or otherwise, were engulfed in the flames and rubble that was brought down on them. Outside the mountain range shook and the people of Crete assumed it was a slight tremor, looking about curiously for what had happened to cause the tremor, whilst the mountain range gave way to a small rockslide that ended up to roll down into a neraby forest, all the stones and rocks coming to rest against fallen trees as the facility under the mountainss was buried beneath hundreds of tonnes of rock and burning metal...

A few hours later, in Washington DC, HCF Headquarters.

A large board meeting was being held by the higher-ups of the corporation, all seven of the higher-ups gathered around a large meeting table in a dark shadowed room, what little light there was only enough to show the people's clothes and bodies seated by the table, their faces shrouded in shadow.

One man in an orange suit spoke up first. "It has been confirmed that all our troops and agent Orian were eliminated by the Umbrella Special Forces in the Crete facility mission. No survivors reported in, as of yet," he explained, tapping the paper in his hands that he was reading, his topaz ring glinting in the light.

"Was anything useful gathered from the mission?" a woman dressed in a blue business suit asked, her thin delicate fingers tapping lightly on the table.

"All data on the T-Virus, Progenitor and Umbrella's recent projects with both strains were obtained from the site. We now have the data stored in our mainframe for use of our own, but no actual samples or specimens had been acquired at the time, so the success is...questionable," a man dressed in a green suit answered.

"Still, it is something we can use. After all we have the staff, resources and fundings to work on this. With the data we have acquired, we could begin to make our own samples and start work on this endeavor as soon as we wish," a woman dressed in a scarlet suit stated in a matter-of-fact tone, her ruby necklace glinting in the light.

"But we have no idea of how to make it from just raw data alone. Umbrella isn't stupid enough to just leave a step-by-step instruction list on the T-Virus in their data for us to steal and use ourselves. We really needed those samples for us to work with, otherwise the project is less than useless!!" a man in a yellow suit complained.

A pair of violet lips grew into a small smile. "There is another way," a female voice declared, catching the entire room's attention. "There are always those who can be changed to work for us, to leave Umbrella's employment and join with us in our endeavours. All one needs to do is feed them with their most desired yearning, such as money, protection, work, power or opportunities. All we really need is one of the high ranking scientists on the project to work for us, then we have what we need," the woman explained, brushing down the violet jacket of her suit as she spoke.

Before anyone could add their own opinion to the woman's explanation, a cough emanated from the head of the tabel, behind a plush leather chair.

"Miss Violet speaks wisely," a voice claimed, his tone emotionless.

The yellow suited man stood up. "What do you mean, Mr White?" he asked, confused.

A white gloved hand extended outwards from the chair and opened up its palm. "Do we have any data or references to the head scientists on the T-Virus project?" he asked.

The orange suited man handed over the folder. "The Head Scientists are a Albert Wesker and William Birkin. Both of them certified child prodigies with exceptional intellects and unlimited knowledge to handle the work, and are both responsible for the recent successes on the project," he explained, handing over the folder.

Mr White read through the entire folder on the two scientists, taking great care not to miss out any detail on the two, paying close attention on their history with Umbrella's hierarchy and T-Virus project. After he had finished reading through the folder, he handed it back to the orange suited man and turned his chair around to face the board members.

"Very well. Upon observation of our research on Umbrella's staff and evaluation of the mission success, I have to say that we shall commence our own endeavours in creating the T-Virus. We shall assign the best of our scientists onto this task and keep them under close observation to prevent any hazards. In the meantime, I advise we have our agents keep an eye out for any possibe employees to be brought over to us and to report back on anything that Umbrella will start," Mr White explained.

"That seemse suitable," Miss Violet stated. "Agreed?" she asked the other members.

"Agreed," they replied.

Mr White nodded. "Very well. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone got up to leave the room, their footsteps disappearing along with them as they walked through the shadowed room, opening the double doors that led outside, the light breifly illuminating the room before they all walked out and the door was shut again, leaving the room in darkness again...

**Sorry for the late update everyone, had a bit of trouble writing it. It was difficult to try and make this coincide with the timeline.**

**Hope that everyone is in character, that I have explained everything throughly and that you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Please read and leave a review if you want, and thanks for reading all the way through.**

**And stay tuned for chapter 30!!**


	30. Chapter 30

Thirty

"You called, Master Alfred?" the butler asked, bowing gracefully, a napkin draped over one shoulder.

Alfred Ashford placed his fork and knife down onto the empty plate, taking the napkin from the butler and wiping his face onto it, feeling momentarily full after his meal. He had just had a large dinner, consisting of roast potatoes, carrots, peas, roast beef, all covered in gravy and a cup of freshly squeezed orange squash.

He folded the napkin up and placed it down onto his lap. "Is my sister still down inside her private laboratory?" he asked, glancing up at the butler coldly.

The butler, however, remained indifferent to the stare. "She is still working on the T-Veronica down in her personal work space. Right now, she is currently having trouble trying to persuade Sir Spencer to allow her some human test subjects," he explained.

Alfred clenched his fists in anger. "And what is my father doing about this?"

"He, unfortunately, can't make any demands against Sir Spencer, so he is currently trying to persuade Mistress Alexia to abandon this endeavor. Personally, I believe that is the best course of action, since Sir Spencer holds all the power in Umbrella, we shouldn't do anything to antagonise him," he claimed.

"What do you know!?" Alfred exclaimed furiously. "My sister is a genius, she is a goddess, she is the greatest creature on this planet. She should not be affected by those of petty little minds, those who are far beneath her and could never hope to achieve her grace. Futhermore, we are the Ashford family, we are the first and finest. Why should we care what some senile old fool has to say!?"

The butler looked momentarily shocked and agast, before he cleared his throat and composed himself. "I am not at a liberty to say, sir," he stated, evading the subject, as he walked over to the table and gathered up the dinner things, neatly balancing it on one hand.

Alfred glared at him, folding his arms across his chest. "Why not?" he asked.

"Your father's orders," was the only answer he received.

Alfred scoffed in disgust and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went.

_The nerve of that man! How dare he try to dimish Alexia! That fool of a butler and my idiot of a father have no idea what my sister is trying to do, what she shall soon accomplish with her genius for this pathetic world!_

He stormed throughout the halls of the Antarctica facility, his fury ebbing off of him like a violent wave, his face bright red and his hands clenched tightly into fists, his breath ragged like a furious animal. Every other employee in the facility avoided him, clearly noticing his disposition and not wishing to do anything else that might antagonise him further. Which Alfred was severely grateful for because he had no desire to be anywhere near those idiots.

Ever since his dear Alexia had started the T-Veronica project one year ago, everyone, including their neandethal father, had done absolutely nothing to help them, always finding something to complain about her work and how they couldn't keep it going. They complained about lack of knowledge, lack of suitable specimens, lack of qualified staff, inability to ask Umbrella HQ to fill their needs or the technology was too low-tech for any proper use.

"If only they were able to work as well as they could complain," he stated.

Alfred didn't know why or how Alexia could tolerate those idiots near her. He certainly couldn't and had wanted nothing more than to get rid of each and every one of them. It would certainly be a good thing since they only amounted to a waste of space and it would immensely cheer up Alfred's mood. But Alexia always delayed him, always told him that he was to be calm and patient with those fools, that everything had its purpose and that their's would soon become known. All one had to do is wait and the path would be clear.

He didn't like the explanation, but if Alexia said it was true, then he knew it was true. Alexia was the only one he could trust, the only one who would keep his mind in the right place. She was his guiding hand, the one who knew what was best for him, his goddess. And he would do whatever she wished, she need only ask, anything she wanted, he would go through hell and back to get it.

_I am her loyal soldier, for all eternities together in bliss. She must know that._

He stopped in his tracks and glanced down at his reflection in the tile floor, seeing a pale young face staring back at him with bright blue eyes. A boy stood there in his reflection wearing a dark blue dinner jacket, a white button-up shirt with gray trousers and black dress shoes. He looked like any member of the Ashford should look, dignified and noble, his blonde hair combed back neatly, his blue ring polished so much it glinted with a bright sapphire glow. But to him, he looked like what he really was, a soldier, ready and willing to die for his royal queen to serve her.

He looked up with a smile of admiration upon his lips, walking up the stairs towards the portrait that was edged in the wall above the grand staircase at the point where the stairs branched left and right. He walked straight up to the portrait and gazed at for what seemed like hours, immersed in its sheer beauty and splendour. People walked by and muttered about how strange he was acting, gazing at that picture without so much as moving, but he didn't care what they thought. He just wanted to gaze at the picture's beauty for as long as he wanted and enjoy its marvellous spectacle

This was probably his most favourite picture. It consisted of a wide open patio with a small wooden table sat in the middle and a chair stood next to it, facing towards the view. The view itself was of a large open field of plush, wild flowers swaying in a gentle summer breeze as the sun started to set, the low orange light casting pale shadows in the scenery. And on the patio stood himself, dressed in the same clothes he wore now, his face beaming brightfully towards the painter. His father sat on the chair, gazing towards the painter with a small smile on his lips, wearing a larger version of the clothes that Alfred wore. And to the right, dressed in a small pink dress with frills and lace, her lucious hair pulled back from her delicate face to cascade down her shoulders, bright pink gloves that reached to her elbows covered her silken hands and a gorgeous smile perched at her ruby lips, the painting catching her goddess beauty in all its majesty.

_I must remember to thank the painter for his work._

Alfred reached up slowly with a trembling hand and stroked Alexia's hand, imagining the feel of her pale, silken skin beneath his fingers, feeling an extreme amount of mirth and ecstasy from the touch. His prying hands worked upwards towards her delicate chest, his mind becoming numb with joy and pleasure at the imagination he felt. He soon worked his way up to her delicate throat and stroked it gently as he would in real life, his fingers stroking the picture in light circles-

_What the..?_

-until he felt something strange beneath his finger tips, a hard edge that seemed to be made of metal with what felt like tiny switches edged inside, a mechanism of some sort. He stepped back from the painting and noticed what looked like a small hole in Alexia's neck, right around where the jewel of her choker should be. He looked all over the painting and found two more holes in the painting, one where the jewel on Alfred's ring should be on his left hand and another in his father's left ear, where the jewel of his proof would be.

_But this makes no sense. This painting shouldn't have these holes in them, unless..._

He pulled the ring off of his finger, the ring that his father had given him on his tenth birthday, and looked it over carefully. It was a large blue stone edged inside a golden frame with the Ashford coat of arms edged in its side, resembling the sort of high-class gift that wealthy parents bestowed on their spoilt children. There was nothing unusual that Alfred could determine about his ring, but there had to be something about it that was important in the picture. He gently tapped it against the wall, feeling a slight pulse from the brief contact of stone and brought the jewel up to examine it, seeing that it was undamaged and that it was real-

-until it fell from the rest of the ring and landed with a muffled thud on the carpeted staircase. Alfred stared at the fallen jewel, crouching down to his knees and picking up the expertly-carved sapphire in his fingers, looking it over to see that there was no damage to it at all. He then looked back at his own image in the portrait, more specifically at the spot where his ring was, and wondered if the jewel was detachable so it could fit in the portrait. He walked up to the portrait and placed the jewel inside the hole of the portrait, hearing a small click echo from the portrait in response as something unlocked behind it.

Alfred jumped at the sound and hastily looked around the room, making sure that nobody had seen his actions before he removed the jewel, the lock clicking back into place. Obviously, he had discovered something vitally important that was being kept hidden inside the facility, the family jewels in their heirlooms being the keys to unlock the door to these secrets.

_But why? Why have this passageway to hide the secrets? And why are our heirlooms the keys?_

Alfred paced back and forth in thoughts, trying to come up with an answer that made sense to all the questions that bounced around in his mind like fireflies. First, there had been Alexia's trouble with her research, the staff's inability to ask Spencer for more specimens, his father's reluctance to help in anyway, the butler's avoidance of explaining why they weren't more powerful in Umbrella's hierarchy and now this secret passageway with the family jewels. There had to be a connection between all of them, but where? It was all joined together to solve all their problems by revealing the cause, to reveal what or who was behind it.

But when the word 'who' resounded in his thoughts, it all came together into one simple fact that made sense of everything; the secrets, the complaints, the lack of co-operation had all been caused, was all due to what the butler had revealed to him earlier today by accident. His father had ordered it, he was causing all the trouble that he and Alexia were experiencing and was purposefully avoiding them so as not to explain his inactivity. Had Alfred discovered this earlier, it would have made no sense at all to his reasons why he would do this to them when he held them in such high regard, despite how low they thought of him. But now that he had unearthed this secret door, the final piece of the puzzle, so to speak, it was all clear.

_He is hiding something from us, something important to me and Alexia. So he is causing all this trouble to keep us from finding that out._

Alfred stood still, completely dumbfounded by his newfound answers, and realized that he had greatly underestimated his father. For God knows how long, he had been keeping secrets from the twins the entire time they had been living at the facility and had succeeded in doing so, with some help from the staff. But now that Alfred had found out where the secrets were hidden and the truth behind his father's actions, he could begin his own actions to find out what it was that his father was hiding from them.

But first, he needed to get a hold of his sister's necklace and father's earring if he was to open the door. He knew that there would be no trouble getting hold of Alexia's choker since all he had to do was explain to her about what he had found and she would naturally send him to uncover more about these secrets. But getting his hands on his father's proof would be a challenge because he would never take it off at all, no matter what reason could be thrown at him to do so; not even the butler, his most trusted member of staff, had ever gotten a hold of the emerald proof.

_Maybe Alexia can help me obtain it once I explain the situation._

Alfred immediately broke into a run back to Alexia's private lab to inform his beloved sister of what he had just discovered about their father. He knew that what lay beyond that door would be important for her as much as it was for him...

"Still not adequate enough," Alexia complained, watching as the dog slowly died from the poison mixture she administered to it. The experiment had started as a way of seeing how she was to make the T-Veronica completely bond with a host's DNA without allowing it to mutate too much that it loses its mental stability, enabling the host to have control over it without risk of losing their minds. Since the T-Veronica virus had a lack of any effects on reptiles or amphibians, she could only use insects or mammals, and since she had already performed several tests on ants with the T-Veronica, she had all the data she needed from them.

She still, however, kept them around because she had a use for them, a great purpose for them to perform once she was sure that the T-Veronica was prepared adequately. She had assumed the role of a queen for them, ensuring that they were safe, that they had everything they needed and that their hive would continue, by having the laboratory facility constructed much deeper to support her growing hive and more equipment for her to enable her ants to reproduce without the use of a queen ant.

She left her personal lab and office, ordering the two guards outside to dispose of the dog's corpse, and walked onto the circular catwalk in the lower levels of the Antarctica facility, gazing at the huge mound of earth that reached to the floor she stood on. She crouched to her knees with a loving smile on her face and gazed down at the many ants that crawled over the dirt of the hive in order for them to construct it taller. The lower levels of the laboratories had been extended deeper to hold the still growing ant hive that Alexia had created and the staff assigned to the floor were now tasked with making sure the hive was looked after.

_Otherwise, I may just have to use them in my own work as experiments._

Alexia knew that the answers to controlling the T-Veronica virus lay in conducting an experiement on its effects in human DNA. She had so far only used other mammals that were available to her from Umbrella, such as dogs, cats or other large mammals. But each of those experiments had been one failure after another, each resulting in the T-Veronica mutating the host's brain cells so badly that all higher brain functions were destroyed and the subject's became too violent in a primal state of fury, which meant she had to terminate them. And since, dogs and cats were most obviously unrelated in any way to a human, she had no way of ascertaining how the T-Veronica would mutate a human, what were the underlying causes of the mutations and how to prevent.

Hence, she required a human hist in order to continue her work. However, despite frequent requests to Spencer, he refused to grant her any new specimens; she had been asking him for human specimens ever since her work began and now, on January 30th, she had come to a standstill. Her father was no help, locked away in his own private rooms and disappearing frequently somewhere in the facility she couldn't locate him.

She sighed. "I need to find some way of getting my work back on track," she stated.

She had thought about hiring some new staff into the facility, some of the few people she trusted besides Alfred, who she knew could handle the work she gave to them without any complaints. One example was a man she had met during her university years, a scientist named Doctor Ian Stoker, PhD in Human Biology and Anatomy; she had a good friendship with that man, since he had the necessary traits to help her in any work she wished to proceed with. And she had considered making a request to Spencer about employing him into Umbrella, to have him involved in their work on the T-Virus. But right now, she lacked any sort of hold on Umbrella to do so, what with her father currently holding her back.

"I need to speak with my sister!!" a frantic voice called out, the urgent tone echoing around the vast room.

Alexia looked up towards the entrance to see her brother currently having an argument with a lab technician, his expression seeming quite desperate and hurried, as if he was in rush to accomplish an important task. She got to her feet and walked over to the pair, tapping the technician on his back to get his attention.

"I'll deal with this. Get back to work quickly," she ordered, taking her brother's hand.

The technician nodded and hurried towards the stasis chamber whilst Alexia led her brother to her office, holding his hand tightly, bringing him inside and shutting the door behind her, locking it so that they wouldn't be disturbed. She turned back to him and folded her arms across her chest.

"Now, dear brother, what is it you are so urgent to speak with me about?" she asked politely, despite the urge that she had of getting back to work so her research could progress further.

Alfred nodded, his face lighting up in excitement. "Well, Alexia, I have found something very interesting that you might want to know more about. There is a secret door behind our portrait in the main hall, something that has been carefully hidden from us ever since we have been here. I only discovered recently and I suspect that our father knew about it, keeping it a secret from us because he didn't want to know about it," he explained, barelya ble to sit still in his chair, his legs making wild, jerking motions of hyper-activity.

Alexia nodded, walking over to her desk and taking a seat in the chair in front of it. This was slightly interesting to her, since she had been sure that she knew all of the facility's layout and where everything was, but she had never known about any secret door that their father had created. It certainly showed that she may have either overestimated herself or underestimated her father in how the facility was run, yet it didn't give her anything useful about how she should get her research on T-Veronica moving forward again.

She sighed. "Alfred, I appreciate that you told me of this, but you must understand, I have to get my work going again. Right now, I lack any human specimens to test my work own, which is what I need to remove the flaws in the T-Veronica virus. However, since I can't get Spencer or my father to provide me with these specimens, I have to find another way of getting my work back on track," she explained.

Alfred reached forward and took her hands gently into his own. "But there is a way that we can get your work back on track," he stated truthfully.

Alexia looked up sharply at him, becoming increasingly more interested in what her brother had to say. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Alfred looked over his shoulder at the door, making sure that no one was trying to get in before he looked back at Alexia with a serious expression on his face.

"Well, earlier today, after I had my evening meal, the butler told me about how your work was going and that you were having trouble getting hold of any specimens for your work. I asked him why our father was doing nothing about it and he claimed that since Spencer was the key power figure in Umbrella, our father couldn't make any demands against him. I wished to know why this was because, as we are the Ashford family, she should be the ones controlling Umbrella, not Spencer. Instead, he avoided the subject by stating that it was our father's orders. I believe that the reasons behind these orders and his reluctance to help you is behind that secret door; I just need your help to get past it," he explained.

Alexia nodded sightly, understanding thoroughy what he was implying. She knew that ever since her work had started, her father had complained on it, claimed he couldn't finish requests or sought out any faults that would take back her work another week to rectify it. He had told her that he had wished to be an assistance to her but he was more of a hinderance in her work. She had originally thought that it was down to his moronic mentality, his failure to grasp the importance that the T-Veronica would soon have in the new world that she would bring, that she was destined to own. But now, her brother had revealed to her that he was deliberately impeding her research, that he wanted to keep her work from going anywhere because he feared that she would discover something he already was aware of and that he wished to keep secret. At first, she had never figured him to have the intellect to perform such a deception.

_Maybe, we have underestimated him. Most impressive that he had managed to hide his actions from me and my brother for so long. I guess he does possess some intelligence after all._

Her ruby lips soon formed into a triumphant smile, to which Alfred returned fully. It seems, that despite her father's actions, she and her brother had once again outsmarted him in this little game of his. Now that they knew what he was really up to and where he was hiding his secrets from them, they could finally unwind this tapestry of mystery in the facility and get the T-Veronica research moving forward again. Like always, her brother served her well.

Alexia leaned forward and planted a small kiss on his cheek, causing him to blush immensely until his cheeks were as red as her lips. She drew back from the friendly peck and smiled lovingly at him.

"I thank you for your wonderful work in this matter, Alfred," she said, her tone of voice filled with gratitude towards her twin. "But I must ask you one last favor for you to perform. I need you to get inside that secret area and uncover what it is our father is hiding from us, find out why it is impeding my work and why it is limiting our family's hold over Umbrella."

Alfred's expression suddenly looked downcast and depressed, his head dropping down so his gaze would face the floor and not his sister's face. "There is the only problem. In order for the door to open, we need all the family heirloom jewels; my ring, your choker and our father's proof. I have no idea how to get hold of our father's proof without him getting suspicious on our reasons behind it," he admitted, looking defeated.

Alexia let go of her brother's hands and rose to her feet, tapping her chin in thought. That was a difficulty, their father had never once removed his proof from his personal being, except when he either bathed or slept, and each of these were in his private bedchambers, to which Alexia and Alfred had no access to. And getting the proof from him without his awareness was also a challenge for them, but it wasn't impossible, that was for sure.

She walked into her private laboratory, rummaging through one of the medicinal cabinets set into the wall, searching for a suitabe substance for her brother and soon found it, a small bottle with some small white pills inside it. She held it out to Alfred and he took it hesistantly.

"This is Diazepam, more commonly known as Valium, a tranquilizer for most uses. It is quite effective and should help you get hold of father's proof," she claimed.

Alfred glanced at the pills inside the bottle sceptically. "How do you recommend I give it to him?"

Alexia giggled lightly and shook her head, as if she was a mother being humoured by her child's foolish questions. "I have learnt a lot about father's day-to-day schedule here in this facility, what he does in the morning, afternoon and evening, what he eats, what he drinks, when and where he works, and most importantly, what he does before he goes to sleep. He has the butler bring a cup of herbal tea to him every night before he goes to bed, which is at 10:30 sharp. Now, if you place at least 4mg of this in his tea, he should fall asleep much quicker, enabling you to steal his proof and get out of his chambers before you are noticed," she explained.

Alfred nodded his head, showing he understood. "Alright, I understand perfectly." He suddenly seemed rather anxious, his cheeks turning pink and his fingers clenching together uncontrollably. "Uh, I, er, need your necklace, dear sister, to get past the door," he said.

Alexia reached up behind her neck to take it off when Alfred held up his hand in objection. "May I remove it, please?" he asked in a small, timid voice.

Alexia smiled and turned around to allow him to remove her necklace, facing the medicine cabinet she had opened. She stood still as Alfred reached up to remove her silver, ruby-filled choker, feeling his shaking fingers trail lightly against the skin of her neck and touch the thin metal clasp of the choker, undoing it after a few seconds of negotiating with his fingers. He slowly reached over to the front of her throat to take off her choker, his fingers tracing across her collarbone in the process with undying affection and worhsip.

Once the necklace was removed from around her throat, she turned around to face her loyal brother and soldier.

"I advise to wait for some time. Prepare yourself for what has to be done," she stated, her tone becoming authorative and serious.

Alfred nodded vigorously. "Of course Alexia. I'll be patient."

Alexia waved her hand to dismiss him, walking back over to her desk in her office to finish writing up some paperwork about her previous experiment; Alfred briskly walked over to the door, unlocking it and stepped through, bowing to her before he gently closed it behind him.

She couldn't help but let her face crinkle with a relieved and triumphant smile, her expression beaming brightly with the good news that her brother had brought to her. Finally, they had found a way to get her work moving again; now that Alfred had found the hidden part of the facility that their father had hidden from them, they could uncover the reasons why the Ashford family were losing control over Umbrella, rectify the problem and begin to acquire all the necessary material and equipment she would need for her work. It seemed that everything was finally going their way.

_But I should keep going with the paper work and other tasks around the facility. After all, I am the highest authority figure here with intelligence._

Alexia sighed and turned back to her desk, picking up her black ink pen and started to write out the reports. Sometimes, she wondered why she had ever been born at all in this world; all the masses of the world did was pile their problems on her shoulders for her to sort out.

It just proved to her that she was the only one with the vision and intellect to lead humanity towards its proper future...

"You called, sir?" Scott Harman asked, poking his head in the door.

Alexander looked up from the paperwork he was doing to glance at his loyal butler. "I am ready for my tea," he said.

The butler nodded curtly. "Of course, sir," he stated in the manner of voice that all butler's did.

Alexander went back to his paperwork, checking it through at least twice to make sure everything was in order before he signed it, placed it inside an envelope and stamp it with the family seal. He turned it over and the address for Umbrella HQ in Paris, placing the stamp on it and sliding it inside his desk for the meantime. It was just a reply to his previous letter, when Spencer had asked questions about Alexia's work on T-Veronica and how far she was to completion. Alexander always sent the same reply, that progress was being made but his daughter was such a hopeless perfectionist that she wouldn't hand it over to him once she was sure it was ready. He had hoped that the lie was suitable enough to keep Spencer away from his daughter whilst she prepared herself to become the monarch of their family and lead them to eternal glory.

_I just hope that my actions woon't attract Spencer's attention or anger my children even more._

He knew that his children hated, loathed and despised him for his failure to be able to help them in their work, his unwillingness to explain his lack of co-operation and total neglect of his duties as a supporting father. Ever since Alexia and Alfred had started the T-Veronica project, Alexander had taken as many actions as he could to impede their work progress so that the T-Veronica wouldn't be completed so soon; he had to do it against his children's wishes because it was the only way to keep Spencer away from them both until they were ready to take him on.

As Spencer was the head figure in Umbrella's hierarchy and controlled everything associated with the corporation, he had the obligation to constantly monitor, take full possession of their work and eliminate all troublesome employees if necessary. Thus Alexander and his twin children could be classed as troublesome, since they were going to take him down from his throne of power. But they couldn't do it yet because Alexia had not reached her pinnacle of divinity to restore the Ashford name and Alfred still lacked the experience to lead Umbrella once his father retired, so he had to isolate as much as possible from the corporation, without casting suspicion.

Except, now that Alexia had started the T-Veronica project and was making good progress, Spencer had started getting interested in the Antarctica facility and frequently sent letters or staff asking about the T-Veronica project. Alexander knew that he had to keep Spencer away from the facility so that he didn't find out what the twins' true purposes were and eliminate them before they had fulfilled their purpose. He knew that Spencer was capabable of that and had done so many times in the past, the latest most likely being James Marcus; Alexander knew that no evidence existed to support this claim, but he knew that his mysterious disappearance from Umbrella was no accident, that Spencer had a hand in it. And, if he was not careful, he and his family were next.

_I won't let that happen! I have come too far for him to stop me! Alexia and Alfred will lead the Ashford family to its destined glory and Spencer can do NOTHING to stop it!_

Alexander had to accomplish this quest, to restore his family's dignity and honour with the help of his children, before he passed on. He owed it to his father, the late Edward Ashford, to bring back the former name and nobility that the Ashford family had possessed, and to gain full control of what belonged to them, to take back Umbrella under the Ashford's entire rule. They had a right to the corporation and everything in it, his father helped make it, helped to create the Progenitor, to start the biological research that they were doing and his family had been assured that they would be a key part in it. But now, Edward Ashford had died, his throne usurped by his former friend, his son shunned and family disgraced; if he had been alive long enough to see this, he would die a broken man. Alexander and his children had to restore the family title, it was their duty to all their ancestors before them, to bring back what was theirs and make their noble ancestress Veronica proud.

_But what if they uncover the truth? What will happen if Alfred and Alexia discover the reasons behind their birthright?_

Whatever was to follow that dreadful thought was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in," he admitted.

The door opened and Scott Harman stepped inside, holding a tray with an ornamental tea cup on top in his left hand, a napkin draped over his arm.

"Your tea, sir," he stated, crossing the room with a practiced stride towards the desk.

Alexander took the cup, smiling gratefully at the butler, and took a sip, feeling a momentary relief at tasting the sweet, herbal remedy. He downed the cup in a few more sips and walked into his bedroom to slip into bed for a good night's sleep. He shouldn't have to worry about Alexia and Alfred discovering the secret of their birth. After all, he had taken great prcedence to hide the laboratory where he had started Project Veronica, having all the files locked away and the lab sealed up behind the portrait door. The keys he had placed in the family heirlooms and gave two to his children whilst he kept the last, and there was barely any chance that his twins would waste time to start exploring the facility.

Still, he couldn't help but feel slightly afraid of that train of thought. If any trace of the secret was found by Alfred and Alexia, they would do whatever they could to find out what it all meant and to uncover the real reasons behind it. They were very intelligent and dedicated to fully accomplishing what they set out to do. And he had no idea what they would do and how they would react if they ever discovered their real purpose in life.

Shaking his head to rid the thoughts from his head, he slipped under the covers and immediately fell asleep, resting up for another hard day of work in Umbrella. He had to maintain the image that he was following Spencer orders whilst he worked to plot Spencer's downfal, so he needed all the sleep he could get if he had to keep this upl. However, he never noticed that he had fallen asleep faster than usual, the ground up pills in his water or his son step out of his hiding place in his wardrobe and steal the emerald from his earring before he quickly left, taking great care not to be discovered by any of the staff as he headed back to his room...

**Hope everyone is in character still.**

**Thnkas to everyone for reading, reviewing and favouriting my story!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 31!!**


	31. Chapter 31

Thirty One

Alfred crept quietly through the halls of the Antarctica facility, taking great care so as not to be noticed by the guards and staff, peeking around corners and through doorways before he moved forward, making sure that he didn't cause any noise to attract attention and avoided all the security cameras as best as he could. After all, he had done a lot of planning for this day and he needed to be careful if he was succeed fully in his task.

_Just get to the door, open it, see what I can find inside and report back to Alexia. Hopefully, there won't ne that many guards around to get in the way._

He hadn't seen any guards or other staff members wandering the halls since he had embarked on his task and considered it down to momentary luck on his part. Most likely the guards were patrolling the upper floors and the scientists were busy working with his sister down in the sublevels, and his father was probably still searching for his missing proof that had vanished two weeks ago. The night of February 17th was just the same as any other, all the staff had retired to bed for the evening or were busy working down in laboratories, barely any sign of life on the upper levels of the facility.

Alfred smirked at that thought and reached into his pocket, pulling out the three family heirlooms, the jewels inside them glinting in the low light. An emerald, a ruby and a sapphire, three keys to open the door to the hidden area and unlock the secrets their father was keeping from them; it all sounded too much like a fairy tale, but then that made him the handsome prince and Alexia the divine princess, so he didn't really complain about that for the prince always gets to stay with the princess forever.

It had been quite easy for Alfred to obtain his father's proof, thanks to help from Alexia and a bit of planning on his part, observing each member of the staff, finding out which were his father's most trusted people and discovering anything on them that could help. He had drugged his father's tea first, asking the butler if he could help make his father's herbal mixture; the butler, thinking that it was just a son trying to do a sweet thing for his father, allowed him to help and Alfred just had to mix the ground-up Valium pills with the tea, stirring it so as to erase any visible evidence of the mixture.

After that, he had stolen a key to his father's bedchambers from one of his personal guard and made a copy of it, using some soap to make an impression of it and taking it to the technicians to ask them for a copy, claiming it was the key to his bedroom and needed a new one having lost the previous one. And once evening rolled in and his father had fallen asleep, he had exited from his hiding place in his wardrobe and stole the proof, quickly leaving before anyone could see him. Then, he waited for two weeks to start his investigation, hiding all the jewels in his music box that Alexia had made for him on his seventh birthday whilst his father frantically combed the entire facility in a vain attempt to find it, not once suspecting his children of stealing it. He had found it quite pleasant to watch his father scurry around in a daze, looking absolutely shocked and worried about his heirloom, almost like a rat in a maze or an ant in a hive.

_I can now see why Alexia thinks of others as ants. All they do is scurry around in a daze, completely lost and hopeless, without the leadership of a suitable ruler._

But his dear sister was the suitable ruler they needed, the one person who could lead them into a greater future, an eternal paradise for all living life on Earth. Once the T-Veronica was finished, she would become the goddess she was meant to be, the true divine being in this world, to lead humanity away from its pathetic lifestyle into something greater under her new order. And he would remain by her side, ever faithful, ever loyal and obedient, her soldier and brother, to watch out for her, to adore her, to be with her amongst the new world.

But first, he needed to help Alexia to get her work moving forward again and to do that, he needed to uncover his father's secrets as to why the Ashford family was losing power and control in Umbrella, and why their work was suffering because of it.

He walked outside the elevator into the imitation courtyard on floor B4, the door leading to the power room driectly across from the lift. He turned left towards the courtyard, walking underneath the stone arches up to the mansion's large oaken doors, opening them slowly to gave inside. Seeing no one inside the hall, he stepped through into the extravagant front room, his footsteps muffled on the red carpet laid on the tile floor.

He walked along the carpet and up the grand staircase towards the portrait of his family, taking out the heirlooms as he approached. Removing the jewels carefully, he placed them each in their respective places on the portrait, the sapphire on his left finger, the emerald in his father's ear and the ruby in his sister's slender neck. As each jewel was inserted, a lock could be heard clicking as it was released and when the last lock clicked open, the portrait slid downwards into the floor slowly on some hidden track in the wall to reveal a small wooden door behind it.

Alfred looked around the hall, ensuring that he wasn't being followed and opened it slowly, stepping through and closing it gently behind him. He had emerged into a simple T shaped hallway, the corridor going forward for a few metres before it branched off to the left and right. On Alfred's left, he could see several portraits hanging on the walls, each of them looking expensive and highly decorative, making the hallway seem less dull and depressing than it seemed. And on his right was a set of double metallic doors, like the set down in Alexia's laboratory, a yellow biohazard symbol imprinted on the door.

_This must be it._

"Hey, you up for poker tonight?" someone asked, a man's voice.

Alfred jumped, surpressing an incoming shriek. The voice sounded like it was close, further down the corridor, and it seemed to be getting louder as it's owner came closer. He soon heard the sound of approaching footsteps and saw two shadows appear down the right hand turn of the intersection, getting larger and closer with each passing second.

"Yeah. But lets raise the stakes a little. Provide a bit of an incentive, eh?" the man joked, chuckling slightly.

Alfred quicky hurried over to the double doors, the doors whooshing open automatically in a jet of steam, and ran inside, quickly ducking behind the first object he could. He heard the footsteps speed up towards the doorway and stop abruptly, a flashlight beam snapping on and scanning the room, the light sweeping for any intruders, the circle of light illuminating each individual shadow before proceeding to the next. Alfred placed a hand over his mouth to quieten his rapid breaths as he tried to still his thumping heart, fearing that the soldiers would hear it because it was beating as loud as orchestra drums in his ribs.

"Is there anyone in there?" one of the guards asked, his voice echoing around the dark room.

Alfred silently prayed in the back of his mind, begged for whoever was listening to his call to make the guards leave and not notice him inside, hoping that he wouldn't be caught so soon. He couldn't fail Alexia, no matter what; if he did, she would be disappointed in him and he could bear to lose the trust that his sister had for him, his heart and mind would shatter at such an outcome.

After several tense and suspenseful seconds that Alfred was beginning to wane under, feeling nothing but the immense terror of failing his sister and being caught by the guards, the flashlight beams snapped off and an exhausted sigh came from the doorway.

"I need a rest. I'm hearing things," one of the guards claimed, his footsteps heading away from the room.

"You need more coffee-" the other guard retorted as the doors slid shut, his voice cut off.

Alfred waited for a few more minutes, straining his ears to hear for anymore footsteps approaching the room, his heart still drumming loudly inside his chest. Thankfully, he heard no more people approaching the room and he sighed in relief, stepping out from behind his hiding place, wiping a shaky hand across his forehead. That had been too close and very tenseful on his nerves.

He walked over to the door and felt around the wall beside the frame for a lightswitch, his fingers soon touching on a small plastic switch on the left hand side of the frame. He flicked it on and the room was bathed in a blinding, bright light that he had to shield his eyes from the harsh glare as his vision adjust itself from the darkness to cope with the sudden brightness.

The room itself was a large square laboratory, consisting of two floors, the top floor going forward for three quarters of the room's length before ending at a ledge bordered off by a metal railing with a small metal door up a hosrt flight of metal steps. To Alfred's left was a desk with two chairs in front of it, a large electron microscope seated on top with stacks of paper on either side and a large filing cabinet placed on its left. On his right was a large computer console aligned with gauges, buttons, switches and several screens that each displayed readouts of a different boydy function; a large plasma screen was edged in the wall above, currently turned off, and a small lift leading to the bottom floor.

_How long has this lab been here?_

Alfred approached the computer console and absently ran his finger along the top of it, churning up a wave of dust that settled on the console, indicating that no one had used the machines in sometime. He then waked over to the desk and picked up one of the pieces of paper, glancing at the date printed on the top; the date printed on the paper was back in 1968 and the paper itself was yellow with age, beginning to crack in certain places, making the documents look more like ancient artifacts rather than notes left unattended. Obviously, the laboratories he was in had not been used for decades and had just been sealed up like a vault.

Pushing aside the thought on how long the notes had been there, he tunred his attention to the file cabinet next to the table, pulling open the top drawer and rummaging through the files. He spent what felt like the next few hours browsing through the folders and files of paper that filled each of the drawers, going through them all one at a time for anything useful on what his father was hiding and why it was impeding their work on the T-Veronica. But all that Alfred found in the cabinet was piece after piece of useless material that couldn't be helpful to anyone; the only things inside the cabinet were lists on what his grandfather had accomplished with the Progenitor during his life, his journal entries, his paperwork for any meetings with Lord Spencer and the rest was all experiment notes written by their father. There was nothing in there to indicate anything worth hiding or that would cause a hinderance on Alexia's work, and the rest of the paper stacked on the desk was nothing more than meaningless gibberish and complex equations. Alfred was loathed to admit defeat, but he had no choice for he had uncovered no great secret, no helpful information or anything that his sister could use in her work.

_No! There must be something, anything to find! My father, an idiot though he may be, wouldn't waste time hiding this room for no reason. I can't return to my sister with nothing useful. I-I..I_

Alfred fumed with self loathing and rage for not being able to find anything useful, for failing his sister and the entire Ashford name in his task, and bit his lips hard, tasting the coppery flavour of blood on his tongue. He had assured his sister that he would succeed, that he would help to bring her work back on track and fulfill her wishes in every possible way, and this was how he would help her, failing the most simplest of tasks when she most relied on him? He screamed aloud his fury, his roar echoing around the room, no longer caring if he was heard, and hoisted one of the chairs easily over his head, crashing it down on the desk to vent his rage out on something solid-

-when he one of the drawers fall to the floor and break apart, a file pinned on a clipboard hitting the concrete with a loud smack. Alfred, snapping out of his rage, stared blankly at the file for a few minutes before he rested the chair back on the floor and picked up the file to read. It seemed to concern a secret project that his father had started called 'Code Veronica', a successful project that was immediately sealed away and deemed classified to all personnel except his father. Alfred's entire being flooded with an overwhelming sense of glee, realizing that he had found the secret that his father was hiding from them for all these years, and inside the words lay the answers to help his dear Alexia achieve her fantastic dreams. He quickly turned the next page and started to read through it all carefully.

What he found on the file left him bereft of words and emotions, save for an incredible feeling of depression, a heart-breaking feeling of shame and an overwhelming sense of primal fury. It seems that Code Veronica was an effort made by his father to redeem himself for failing the Ashford family, disgracing their name, losing their control over Umbrella and accidentally killing his father, Edward Ashford. From what he could tell, Edward Ashford had died several years ago in an accident with a Progenitor experiment, resulting in his termination by security forces. His father had been present during the experiment and had apparently done nothing to help save Edward's life, resulting in his immediate disgrace and shame amongst the rest of the family. And once Edward Ashford had died, Lord Oswell E. Spencer had assumed complete control over Umbrella and all it's assets, thus the Ashford lost most of its power, reputation and dignity.

So, to redeem himself, the family name and restore the Ashford family's position of power in Umbrella's heirachy, Alexander decided to devote his time and energy to create a perfect clone of their great ancestor Veronica, having built this facility to conduct his new project away from Spencer's control. And it turns out that the project was a success, in that Alexia, the ideal specimen was created, Alfred himself being nothing more than an unexpected outcome.

_So, all me and my sister are is...a second chance? Just a way for father to make amends for failing!?_

At that moment, Alfred had never felt so much hatred for anyone one, wanting nothing more than to watch his father twist and writhe in umbearable agony for his crimes, to scream out his pain from the torture as he would watch in delight and ecstasy from the suffering. He could never, ever respect his father again, what little respect he had for that maggot vanishing into the vast, black ocean of hatred in his mind, loathing and despising that man for what he had brought down on their family. He clenched his fists so hard that his hands started to bleed, biting down increasingly hard on his lip that his chin was drenched in blood and his face turned red with rage, his eyes flashing with deadly malice. Had anyone looked at that boy's expression now, they would know what the fury of Hell was like.

Alfred stood there, fuming in rage and disgust, and roared again, louder than he believed he ever could, than his lungs could take, and vented his rage out on everything in the room. He smashed the computers, machines and screens placed throughout the room, glass shattering with loud crashes and the pieces trickling to the floor with a multitude of clinks, sparks snapping and flying out like fireflies escaping from a jar. He tore up every piece of paper in the room, destroying every trace he saw of the scandalous and revolting actions his so-called 'father' had taken for his own failures, scattering the pieces around the room to rain down on the floor. He hoisted the chairs high above his head and destroyed the desk, beating them relentlessly until they shattered into large pieces and small splinters, the chairs bending out of place, becoming twisted lumps of metal.

His angry and veagenful tantrum lasted for what seemed like hours, when it had only been a few minutes. And the laboratory itself looked as like a house that had been hit by Hurricane Katrina, the desks pulverized into a mass of broken wood and splinters, the chairs mangled and twisted into scrap, the machines smashed to pieces and the inside wiring hacked up, wasting what was left of its artificial life with small yellow sparks ass electricity continued to course through it, the computer and monitor screens shattered into small pieces of glass that scattered across the floor like confettia at a party, leaving Alfred standing in a sea of destruction.

He continued to seethe in rage, blood covering his hands, fingers and chin, ignoring the pain he felt from the wounds as he focused all his hatred and malice on his father. How could their father even believe that he could use them to make up for his own failures, failures that he alone were responsible for, and hide behind them as they redeemed the family name for something that they weren't remotely involved in? Was he such a poor excuse for a man that he had to resort to genetic manipulation to create his dear sister, the purest goddess, to restore his lost dignity? Alfred had never thought that his father could be such a useless, feeble, incompetent, miniscule insect but after reading what he had done with him and his dear sister to make amends for his crimes against his family.

On the trail of that thought, Alfred realized that he was just an accessory, a 'lucky' birth, an unexpected fluke that his father took advantage of for his own ends. He collapsed to his knees, the glass piercing through his trousers and skin to draw blood, held his head in hands and began to sob, feeling a wave of depression and sadness drown his rage towards his father. All he really was, had ever been and always will be, is a fluke, a 'plus-one' to the family, just a bonus that his father had derived from his crimes, something that he believed he could manipulate and use like his dear sister. He knew that Alexia was superior to him, that he was a lowly minion in comparison to her grace and majesty, had always accepted that in his loyal servitude to her, but what he had uncovered here claimed that he was not even meant to exist, that he was an expendable asset to his sister like all the other delinquents around her, something that she despised and wanted to rid herself of once they had completed their task.

And he couldn't bear the thought of his sister treating him in the same way, to show him the same contempt and disgust that she visibly displayed towards the others, to reject him from her life and work like the meaningless tools she used. He adored and relied on his dear sister immensely, knowing that his entire existence was fultile without her there for him, forever serving and loyal to her, thriving on the affection and love she gave him in return for his assistance, to be with her for the eternities to come, with the goddess that he worshipped, served and loved with every aspect of his person. But to lose that love and affection, to be abandoned by his divine twin and loathed for an eternity by her sweet personage would be too much for him to bear, because he found no point in living without her there for him, finding no solace or worth in his life without the sister he knew and cared for there beside him.

He spent the next few minutes on his knees, sobbing, greiving for his own horrible circumstancial birth and the reasons for his insignificant existence, disbelieving the truth that was had reared its ugly head towards him and fearing the possiblity of his dear sister abadoning him, the chance of his worst ever nightmare coming to pass, with no possible way of him waking up from it to start the life he had grown to adore beforehand.

_Get up! You can cry and grieve later! Right now, you have a task to finish for Alexia! You at least owe her the truth about her own birth for all that she has done for you!_ his mind demanded.

Feeling a new resolve come to his mind, Alfred wiped the blood and tears from his face on his jacket, and got to his feet, tucking the what was left of the file into his pocket for Alexia to read. He still had a task to complete, despite what the outcome from it would be; she needed to know about what he had discovered, since it was impeding her work on the T-Veronica and she also had the right to know the crimes that their father had enforced on her. She deserved that right to know about it and he owed her that much for the love she gave to him for all the years they spent together.

Taking deep breaths to compose himself and drive away any more tears, Alfred strolled over to the door, stepping through once they opened and hurried through the corridors back towards Alexia's private lab. He didn't know what they were to do with this new information that had been uncovered but he most assuredly knew that if anyone could figure out what was to be done about this, it was his graceful and noble sister, Alexia...

"More food, my pets?" she asked the ants in the large and still-growing anthill that resided in the B4 lab area. She giggled as she watched them go about their daily lives, continuing to build the anthill that now reached halfway up to the ceiling, scurrying over the dirt walls of the mound in a frenzy to keep building it higher and higher to support their increasing population. Reaching into the bucket held under one arm, she pulled a dead dragonfly, its wings peeled off and its body a lifeless tube of fleshy sustenance for her pets, throwing it down into the pit for the ants to eat.

The ants responded quicky to this new meal, rushing over the dead ants in a sea of life and began to devour it, the mass of life eagerly eating the meal given to them willingly. The ants had soon fully eaten their meal in under a few minutes and immediately scurried back to their work, all trace of the dragonfly having been eaten. Alexia, deciding that they needed more, upended the pucket over the edge, dropping all the food into the hive for the ants to feast on. In a split second, the hive seemed to be drowned in the frenzy of life as the ants swar,ed out of the hive to enjoy the feast laid out before them; most of the hive masked the food underneath their bodies whilst they ate it and the rest carried some of the food on their backs into the hive to feed to their newly-born children.

_It's amazing to watch these creatures scurry about their lives, to continue on with their existences and work in order to serve their queen, to serve me and my cause. Once the T-Veronica virus is ready, they shall be my instruments to change the world._

Alexia continued to gaze down at the ants to watch as they continued their lives and work, finding some sort of solace and peace to watch others slave away for her own needs. Although, it is what they should be doing for the person who was destined to become their goddess, for the one was superior to all of them. Her reliable brother and the ants that scurried around in the hive all understood this, finding enjoyment and mirth in serving fully, never once complaining or doubting the orders she gave them, willing to accept their fate in the coming of divinity. It was too bad that her father and the idiots of Umbrella lacked the same commitment; although they followed her orders and accomplished the tasks given to them, they had always complained, made excuses or sought out flaws in her work that they thought would ruin it or was dangerous for them. Sometimes, she found it incredible that she could think of use for them, let alone find one, apart from being possible human test-subjects on T-Veronica.

However, over the two weeks since Alfred had informed her of the hidden door he found, she had decided to leave her work alone for a while and concentrat more on the politicale affairs of the family, as much as she loathed to do so. She had spent most of her time with her father and brother, dressed in a variety of extravagant dresses and jewellery, attending meetings, parties and important events with the Umbrella corporation, receiving praise and admirations from useless corporate pawns and petty bereaucrats, or spending some time with other members of their great family, constantly being compared, even stated that she had surpassed, their ancestress Veronica. Her father had expressed his appreciation for her doing these things, but she showed no interest in the events or his thoughts on the matter, merely attempting to enjoy the irritating and obnoxious atmosphere at the events or outings.

Consecutively, there was one meeting she had found particularly interesting and enlightening, and that was her first face-to-face meeting with Lord Oswell E. Spencer, the head of Umbrella. It had been during the beginning of February, when the corporation had organized a corporate banquet at Spencer's private estate in Raccoon Forest, and an express invitation was made to herself, her father and brother, asking them to attend with full hospitality. Alexander had expressed how important this banquet was and warned them that they had to treat Spencer with respect, considering his position of power in Umbrella. Alfred expressed his contempt and dislike of the situation, claiming that they shouldn't be showing anyone beneath them respect which they neither earned nor deserved, until Alexia explained to him that they had to be kind to Lord Spencer if their work was to proceed further.

Reluctantly agreeing, Alfred promised that he would be on his best behavior at the banquet for his sister and their father, pleased that they both understood the importance of the situation, had them leave immediately for Raccoon City. Arriving at Ragithon International Airport, they had been picked up by a convoy of local RPD officer and a limousine stamped with the Umbrella logo, followed by a short drive to the estate. Once there, they had been admitted inside the main hall, which had been filled to the brims with company executives, soldiers and scientists, all talking amongst themselves about whatever interested them or ate some of the lavish cuisines laid out on the massive dining table.

And inside the dining room, standing out like a needle amongst hay, was Lord Oswell E. Spencer himself, long silver hair reaching to his shoulders, piercing hazel eyes, dressed in a dark black tuxedo with matching shoes, an onyx ring on his left hand and an oaken-wood cane with a silver snake-head. She had actually managed to have a conversation with him, finding him to be a very intimidating person, even for her, and understood why her father feared the man so much. She remembered her encounter with Lord Spencer very clearly, replaying all the words and conversation topics in her memories.

_She had accidentally bumped into one of the Umbrella higher-ups causing her to spill coffee down the front of her black evening gown. The woman glared icy daggers at Alexia, her doing the same thing._

"_You little brat, watch where you are going," the woman scorned._

_Alexia snorted. "Why should I take orders from a slimy woman like you?" she hissed._

_The woman's face went bright red with anger and she had been about to offer a fierce rebuttal when a silver snake-head hooked over her shoulder suddenly, causing her to look behind her._

"_Now, now, Miss Henri. Don't be too harsh," Spencer said, his face broken out in a small smirk._

_Miss Henri looked at Spencer in mild surprise before leaving to go speak with another person, flashing a brief angry glance at Alexia. Lord Spencer stepped up to her, smiling gently, took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed it, causing Alexia to blush._

_He looked at her squarely in the eyes, smiling still. "You must be Miss Alexia Ashford," he said, stating the obvious. "Enchante."_

"_H-h...h...how do you do," she greeting, her voice stammering with embarrassment._

_He stood up and gazed down at her, his eyes seeming to look for something in her face before lighting up in interest._

"_You really do look like your ancestress Veronica it's uncanny," he stated out of the blue._

_Alexia found herself smiling at him. "Everyone always says that about me. I find it to be distracting from my work so I tend to ignore that," she explained._

_Spencer chuckled. "That is very understandable. The similarity between your family and myself is that we barey have any chance to appease our vanity because of all the work we have," he claimed. His smile disappeared and his expression grew serious. "How is your work coming along, if I may ask?"_

_Alexia's expression also grew serious. "Slow. We lack any suitable specimens to test the T-Veronica on and my requests to you have met with little response or completion," she explained, her tone turning sour._

"_Believe me, Miss Ashford, your work is important to the corporation and we wish to assist you in anyway possible. But we have numerous facilities positioned across the globe in several places, each demanding more and more specimens to work with. And despite what our staff may believe, we do not possess an unlimited supply of specimens to give to everyone," he informed her, his tone stoic and emotionless._

_Alexia opened her mouth slightly to respond to his explanation but her father soon walked up to her and caught her attention by tapping on her shoulder._

"_Have you seen your brother? I can't find him anywhere," he questioned, trying to avoid speaking with Spencer._

_Spencer, however, hooked his cane under Alexander's chin and raised it to meet his gaze. "Well, well, well. Mister Ashford. How good to see you again," he greeted, his expression and tone still stoic._

"_The feeling is mutual, Lord Spencer," Alexander replied, his tone filled with sarcasm and an underlying hint of anger._

"_You do realize that your participation and current activities in our corporation's inner workings have thus far been both a waste of time and resources. More so, you refuse to speak with us about your sister's work or your family affairs, isolate yourself in that Antarctica facility of yours and forsake your duties on Rockfort Island, your family birthplace. People may take that as disgraceful," Spencer informed him, pulling out a cigar from his pocket and lighting it up._

"_I am sure that me, my father and Dr Marcus have very different of what 'disgrace' means to the corporation, 'Lord' Spencer," Alexander retorted, his voice turning into a snarl._

_Spencer's eyes narrowed sharply and he glared full force at Alexander, the cigar resting between his lips, the smoke trailing up to the roof, masking his face behind a faint mist but his eyes burned brightly, unnerving Alexander considerably that Alexia could see a faint trace of sweat dot on his forehead and his hands start to tremble._

_Spencer pressed his cane hard against Alexander's chest and leaned forward, his eyes dangerously close to Alexander's. "Be careful, Mister Ashford. That tone of voice may get you in considerable trouble and some may take it as a threat. Such sayings and mentions may get you killed in this dangerous world of ours," he warned. He glanced back down at Alexia, nodding curtly to her. "Have a good evening, Miss Ashford. It was a pleasure to meet you."_

_Alexia smiled at him with a genuine smile and curtsied. "The pleasure is all mine," she retorted sweetly, earning a smile from Spencer before he left to speak with someone else._

Alexia had to admit that she was very impressed with Spencer and held him in a slight admiration because of his power status. He was the perfect example of a leader, politician and business genius she had ever met, having the complete loyalty of everyone who worked for him, owned everything that Umbrella possessed and controlled everything that he had in his power. The people who worked for him gave him their utmost loyalty, respect and servitude, showing no complaints or excuses to what he wanted, accomplishing whatever he placed on their shoulders and gave him exactly what he wanted out of it, no questions asked.

_But unfortunately, I shall have to surpass him. My destiny is far greater and superior to his, for mine is the promise of godhood. And once the T-Veronica research is completed, I shall achieve this goal._

And the research on T-Veronica would soon be back on track again, once her brother had reported what he had uncovered from their father's hidden chambers, she would determine how best to use it to benefit her work. She had to admit that she was quite interested to find out what it was that their father was hiding from them since she had never really believed that their father was capable of hiding anything from them in the first place, especially for so long. But, thanks to her reliable and ever-faithful soldier and brother, they had discovered his little hide-away and they would discover everything that their father was attempting to hide from them, and why it was holding back on her work.

Alexia placed the bucket down on the walkway and strolled over to her private office, deciding that she should read through her notes and analyse what parts of the virus were defective from them in order for her to perfect the T-Veronica strain. She walked into her private office, closing the door behind her and took a seat at her desk, pulling all her research notes out from the drawers and began to read through them carefully. She needed to know every aspect of the T-Veronica if she was to find the flaws in it and figure out how to perfect them.

She spent the next couple of minutes reading through all the notes she had on the T-Veronica strain, on her evaluation of its potential, the results from her previous experiments on mammals and the observations that were made from those results. She had uncovered from her experiments several key faults in the T-Veronica infection and adaption to the host's DNA, more noteably towards the brain. Since the T-Veronica was created through the combination of the Progenitor and the ancient virus found in the queen ant, it had the potential to force the body to undergoe rapid mutations of its host's DNA, causing the host to mutate into a similar organism of an ant or queen ant, depending on the gender, when it merged with the host's DNA via the infection method that the Progenitor took, by passing through the menbrane of cells, infecting the nucleus and causing violent, uncontrolled cellular change through mutation of the host's genes. But the problem was Alexia knew that the T-Veronica could be adapted to the host's DNA and controlled by the host, so that the mutations could be induced or reversed by the host; however, as it was a combination with the Progenitor, it also caused massive degeneration of the host's brain cells, resulting in them becoming extremely aggressive, thus the host would have little, if none, control over the virus.

In addition, since she could only use low-quality mammals, such as dogs and cats, she had no way of properly observing and recording the mutations' effects on the host's body, as she wasn't an expert on animal physiology, and couldn't find out where the flaws in the virus' mutagenic properties were, which meant she couldn't resolve the problems that they caused and have the virus fully suited to her needs. So she needed human specimens to work with because, being an expert on human physiology herself, she would be able to fully observe the mutations that the T-Veronica virus had on humans, uncover exactly where the virus mutated its host's DNA so badly that they lost their concepts of higher thought and had no control over the virus' mutations.

But she had no way of getting her hands on any human specimens because of her father's inactivity and Lord Spencer's total dominance of Umbrella's functions, assets and heirarchy. Despite the fact that she had requested many times for some human specimens for her to work on, Spencer had not allowed her any human specimens to use and had explained it was down too little specimens and too many people asking for them. And they couldn't very well acquire more in such a short amount of time because the authorities would begin to get suspicious and launch an investigation into the matter, and Umbrella wouldn't take such stupid risks.

At first, she thought about having her father present her unique case by informing them of how she was a valuable asset of the corporation, as was her work, thus they needed to supply her specimens if she was to finish her work and give it to them once it was done (which she had no intention of doing but she would have said such a thing if it help her work). But her father refused to help her with her work and instead kept finding excuses or anomalies in her work that he believed needed to be sorted out before they could continue with the project. She had originally assumed that he was doing that because he lacked the skill and intelligence to cope with the work, and was making these excuses as a result, but Alfred had shown to her that he was doing it to keep his secrets from them and from Spencer by impeding her work so that they would pay more attention to the work rather than his secrets.

_But nothing can be hidden forever._

The door opened behind her and Alexia looked up from her work to see her brother Alfred standing in the doorway. Her smile began to form at her lips until she noticed how he looked, blood staining his hands, chin, knees, jacket and trousers, his eyes swollen and red from crying, the tears still sliding down his cheeks.

She rushed towards him and held his face in her hands, staring at him in the eyes, her expression turning concerned. "Alfred, what happened to you?" she asked.

He looked up at her, his expression very upset, and he began to cry again, tears sliding down his cheeks and his lips trembling. Suddenly, he leapt forward into her, burying his face in her shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around, as if afraid to lose her, sniffling quietly, her shoulder becoming wet with tears. Alexia wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back, providing him comfort in his time of sadness, whispering words of encouragement, showing him that she did care for him. After a few more minutes of crying and the two of them holding each other in a brother-and-sisterly embrace, Alexia pulled back from Alfred and looked at him with a solemn expression.

"Now, tell me everything that had happened," she demanded.

And then, Alfred told her the most shocking thing she had ever heard. He explained to her about the death of their grandfather, the shame of their family, the failure of their father, their loss of power in Umbrella, the Code Veronica their father started and the eventual creation of them, as tools for their father to redeem himself for his crimes. Alexia growled deep in her throat, the stirrings of pure hatred in her gut, her lips forming into a sneer of disgust and utter loathing; their father, the greatest idiot that humanity had ever known or could fathom, had utterly failed in his duties and butchered the once proud dignity that the Ashford family had possessed for many years, and he was such an incompetent man that he had to resort to creating a 'clone' of Veronica, their ancestress, just to repair the damage he had done and pay for the crimes he committed. And to pour salt into the wound, he had impeded on and attempted to ruin her important endeavors because he couldn't face the reality of what he had done, like the coward he was, believeing he could use her as a mere tool.

_How dare he!! I AM superior to him, I am the greatest that humanity has to offer, I am destined for things FAR greater than him. And he has the nerve to think he can use a 'Get Out of Jail' Free Card!? The impudence and audacity of that self-righteous, arrogant neandethal!!_

She stood there seething with anger, feeling nothing but absolute loathing and contempt for her father for what he had done to her. She was not some simple tool that he had complete control over and could be used as he saw fit; she was the future goddess of the new world order that would be unleashed on the world via the T-Veronica and her own free will, the destined deity of the new society that humanity would soon be a part of. And she would not allow her father to ever escape what he had done to her and what he had brought down upon their noble family, he would never live this down for the rest of his miserable existence, she would make sure of that. He deserved nothing more than the most terrible, painful and horrific punishment for the crimes of treason that he had committed; in fact-

Her face creaked into a sinister and sadistic grin, her eyes lighting up with unprecendented joy at this new idea that had come to her. All this time, she had been demanding human specimens from Umbrella non-stop, constantly making requests for the specimens over and over again, never receiving them because of her father and Lord Spencer. But now, she didn't need to ask them for humans anymore; her father had betrayed her, ruined her work, shamed their family honor and even failed to safe their grandfather, thus resorting for him to try and redeem himself in the eyes of their noble family, and Alexia had found the perfect way for him to actually contribute to their work for once. He would become the next experiment that she would perform, the first ever human host to be given the gift of the T-Veronica, which he had no right to neither earn nor receive. She could prepare everything for the new experiment, she had all the necessary equipment and materials to use, Doctor Ian Stoker would have to be brought in to help her since she needed someone she could trust to help them in the experiment, she would have to find out which of the guards was trustworthy enough to keep this quiet and they would have to construct a cell to detain their father, in case of a failure.

_It is perfect. He will be punished for his crimes, I can get the results I need, the work will get back on track and, for once, our father will be useful for a change. He deserves nothing more for what he's done to me and..._

She immediately spun around to face her brother, suddenly feeling an immense sense of pity for her twin. If anyone was more hurt by this terrible secret that they had uncovered, it was him, because he was the one who had been classified as 'an unexpected outcome'. He had explained how she was the one that was intended to happen, the one that their father had wanted to gain from the experiment, the desired outcome and how he was just he bonus that their father had found a use for, and it seemed to have upset huim considerably, which she understood completely. After all, it was horrible enough how and why they had been created, but it was even more hurtful towards Alfred since he wasn't meant to have been born in the first place, as their father had intended to create Alexia, the 'clone of their ancestress'.

She approached her brother and took his hands gently, causing him to look up at her with tearful eyes. "Let's get up cleaned up," she said sweetly, giving him an encouraging smile.

Taking him by his hands to the sink, she turned on the hot and cold water taps until she came up with a medium that was suitable and stuck his hand underneath the water, carefully washing off the blood on his hands. Then she grabbed a flannel from inside the nearby medicine cabinet and began to wipe his lip and chin, wiping him gently so she wouldn't hurt him anymore than he was so. Placing him down on the chair, she took a medicinal-kit from the cabinet and pulled out a needle, some bandages, antiseptic cream and clothes.

Holding up one of his knees, she carefully removed all the glass that was embedded in the skin and tossed into the nearby bin, doing the same with the other one after once she had finished with the first. She then applied antiseptic cream to his wounds and wrapped a bandage around them comfortably, placing plasters on his smaller wounds.

"Alexia, am I a failure?" Alfred asked out of the blue.

Alexia looked up at him sharply. "Why would you say that?"

New tears began to slide slowly down his cheeks as he took deep, shaky breaths to compose himself. "It's just that...I am nothing, I have always been nothing. No matter how hard I serve you or accomplish anything for you, I have never stopped being what I was, a bonus. I just want to know if I have actually done anything good or worthwhile in my life, something that can prove that I am not just a bonus. Because I want to serve you, I want to be with you forever and I wa—I need to know if I have actually been of great service to you that you won't leave me. It's because of you that I exist, that I have the life I own and that I am able to perform my duties in life. I can't accept being a failure if I shall lose you, I don't want to be away from you, I am afraid of losing the one thing that matters to me and gives me a purpose in life. Please tell me I have done good for you, please don't leave me. I'll do anything, ANYTHING, I just don't want to lose you Alexia, please," he practically begged, his voice starting to choke with sobs.

Alexia leant forward and kissed him gently on the forehead, ceasing his sobs and looked at him lovingly in the face, a sweet smile gracing her lips. "Is that it Alfred? You fear that I shall abandon you, leave you to rot alone because I now know who we are, who you are, and how we came into being." She chuckled slightly. "I can never do that, dear brother. I need you as much you need me. I haven't gotten this far just by myself, you have helped and served me well, for which I am grateful. And I still need your help for what is to come. A goddess and queen cannot succeed in her reign without her loyal soldier, without the one person that she can rely fully to assist in her work. You are destined for great things as well, Alfred. Nothing can change that, especially not that ignorant bastard of a father, nor will I abandon you. Cast out your fears, they are not true. The Ashford family and my legacy depend on you as well. I will never leave, and if I ever do, know that I will always come back to you," she explained encouragingly, placing her hand to his cheek and rubbing it softly.

Alfred's eye watered up even more and he flung himself in her arms, causing her to stumble back a step in shock. He started to cry immensely, his head placed against her chest and she put her arms around him, rocking him back and forth as a mother would comfort her child.

"T...T-thank you, m-m..my dear sister. I promise I shall not fail you, that I will always serve you," he assured her truthfully.

Alexia nodded, smiling still. "I know."

She knew that she had to get her work ready, that there were much preparations that needed to be done for her new experiment and if her work was to be completed, but she didn't care at the moment. She spent the next few minutes comforting her dear and ever-faithful brother, washing away his fears and removing the shame he felt from his soul. Right now, all she wanted to do now was show him that she cared for him as he did for her.

Knowing how much he loved it, she started to sing his favourite song, the song she always sang to him whenever he felt depressed or just wanted to hear her voice, as a reward for his long service, love and loyalty towards her.

"_There was a friendly but naïve king,_

_who wed a very nasty queen._

_The king was loved but,_

_the queen was feared._

_Till one day strolling in his court,_

_an arrow pierced the kind king's heart._

_He lost his life and,_

_his lady love._"...

**Hey everyone! Thanks for reading this far!**

**I hope I have explained the T-Veronica virus adquately enough since it has never really been branched on or explained that much. I will further explain it in future chapters. Oh yeah, hope everyone is still in character.**

**Please read and review! And thanks to those who already have (e.g. Chaed, Phoenix Helix, Drew Skye, Crocodile and all the others who were kind enough for review/favourite my story.)**

**Next update will be up soon.**

**So stay tuned for chapter 32!!**


	32. Chapter 32

Thirty Two

"You will look exquisite, Mademoiselle," the maid complimented in an irritatingly cheery tone of voice.

"And so I should," Alexia retorted sternly, "because a dear friend of mine is paying us a visit. So I must greet him in the proper fashion of a noble aristocrat."

The maid began combing through Alexia's long hair gently with a soft, velvet brush, the small child staring at the mirror in silence as it was done. "Your father would be so proud of you, acting like a proper lady of the Ashford legacy," she stated, giggling slightly.

Alexia's eyes narrowed and a small, grim scowl filled with hatred appeared on her lips, which the maid didn't notice. "I hope that he is pleased of my actions. I wouldn't want to do anything to disappoint him," she claimed, keeping the sarcasm out of her tone.

The maid, blind to the girl's facial expression and tone of voice, nodded slightly, continuing to brush Alexia's hair, brushing it away from the child's face and then keeping it in place by placing a jewelled tiara in it.

She stepped back and looked Alexia over, smiling proudly. "You look extravagant," she complimented again.

Alexia stood up and gazed at herself in the grand mirror, looking over her reflection. She was wearing a dark blue silken dress with black laces and frills down the front, matching gloves that reached to her elbows and black dress shoes, her choker (the ruby now returned to it) worn around her neck and polished to a bright sheen, and her hair pulled back behind her head via the sapphire-encrusted tiara placed in the golden locks. If anyone had saw her now, they would all agree that she looked like a princess, a true descendant of the Ashford family, but she had very little interest in the opinions of others. She was only dressed this way because her closest friend outside of Alfred and her pet ants was arriving at the facility today to discuss a business opportunity with her, and she wanted to make a good impression on him.

_It has been quite a long time. Ever since my brother and I left university to work for Umbrella, Ian Stoker and I have not spoken to each other much._

Alexia looked herself over again and made sure that everything was in place before turning to look at the maid, her expression stoic and authoritative.

"Where is my brother?" she asked.

"He's waiting in the underground hangar for you," she answered.

Alexia waved her hand to dismiss the maid and walked over to her desk, pulling open one of the drawers and took out several stacks of paper, stuffing them gently into a briefcase that she had borrowed from one of the scientists, taking care not to damage them. She had made sure to prepare all her notes on the T-Veronica project for Dr Stoker to read so he could understand everything that had happened so far, know what the problems were in the project and why she needed his help. After all, Ian Stoker was one of the very few people she thought had the capabilities to handle the work on the T-Veronica and would be able to understand the reasons behind her methods, since he shared the same ideals and beliefs that she did.

But she hoped that the lack of communication between them had not damaged their friendship thus far because she was in great need of someone that she could trust to help her with the next part of her project, namely the first human experiment with the T-Veronica and the cover-up of the specimen's identity, namely her father. Ever since her brother had uncovered their father's dirty little secret and explained it all, she had never experienced as much loathing and hatred for any single person in her entire life; their incompetent father had disgraced the entire Ashford name, and had created Alexia and Alfred as a method of redemtion for his crimes, scarring them with the curse of his scandalous action. All their father had ever accomplished was the desecration of their family dignity and had never once made a contribution that could ever be considered useful or successful towards the family's endeavors.

_However, that will change. After years of failure and disgrace he has caused to our family, he can finally contribute something worthwhile._

Everything was ready for the experiment to begin. Alexia, in secret, had ordered a few more pieces of technology from the board, had a new cell constructed beneath her father's office on floor B2, making sure that the only way to access the room was from a hidden door in the power room, on the far wall behind the generato; she had the sedatives and T-Veronica samples ready, the restraints and locks installed in case of a failure (the most probable outcome in her opinion, due to the lack of either data or knowledge on the T-Veronica's effects on humans), and had picked out two guards whom she had deemed most trustworthy to help in the experiment. All that was required was for Dr Ian Stoker to offer his expertise to her and then the experiment could start.

She strolled through the halls of the Antarctica facility at a brisk pace, ignoring the stares of admiration and compliments of her divinity from the facility's staff. It took her half an hour of walking through halls, up sets of stairs and using elevators to reach the large underground hangar where the corporation kept all their transport aircraft, from helicopters to jets, all fuelled and ready to be used, each stored behind large metal shutters, waiting to be called out and flown by their pilots.

Alexia leaned on the metal railing of the balcony, looking out over the hangar, watching as the technicians ran to and fro across the tarmac landing site, pushing along drums of oil and cans of fuel towards the hangars, barking out orders or complaints to one another over some discrepancy between them-

-when the large roof of the hangar opened, the shafts of sunlight illuminating the entire room, glinting of the snow flakes that fell inside, making them seem like diamonds. The technicians and mechanics down on the landing site moved away from the centre of the area, allowing the helicopter to land successfully. Alexia herself walking down the set of metal stairs to get closer as the helicopter lowered itself gently to the ground, her golden hair flowing behind her head like a golden river, shining in the sunlight.

"I am sorry, Alexia. I hadn't noticed that you were here," her brother stated suddenly from behind her, his footsteps clanking down the stairs as he approached her.

Alexia turned and smiled warmly at her brother. "Don't trouble yourself, Alfred. We have more important things to do," she said sweetly.

Alfred nodded at her and straightened up, smoothing down the front of his expensive red dinner jacket. Alexia turned towards the chopper, her expression turning serious again, and walked up to the side-door, the helicopter having landed and the rotor blades falling silent, the large roof-hatch door sliding shut with echoing slams of metal.

The twin children stopped in front of the door and stood up straight, heads held high, looking like the aristocratic family members that they were, as the pilot stepped out of the helicopter and opened the hatch, allowing the single passenger to step outside. The man was a tall, elegant gentleman who looked to be in his early forties, his features beginning to show signs of aging via the wrinkles that were spreading under his eyes and around his cheeks, and his short black hair beginning to turn gray. He was dressed a simple brown business suit, with a white buttoned-up shirt, lloose blue tie and black loafers, looking like an office worker who had slept in his clothes. He carried a black leather bag with golden handles in his right hand and a book of Human Anatomy under his left arm, the book creased and worn down from constant use.

He wore a bright smile on his face and hopped out of the chopper, walking towards the twins quickly. Alexia returned the smile and stepped up closer to him, holding out her hand at full length, palm down when they stopped a few inches from each other.

"Doctor Ian Stoker, it's been too long, sir," she claimed, still smiling.

The doctor bowed courteously and took her hand gently in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing it gently. "Miss Ashford. As radiant and elegant since we first met," he complimented.

Alexia chuckled. "You always were such a flattering fool," she quipped.

Ian laughed in response. "And you have that sparkling intelligence about you. I must say that was a fortunate circumstance for both of us that we met," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

She nodded, remembering the day they met very well. It had been during her useless years spent in university, under the tutelage of an ignorant moron who held the pompus belief that he knew more than her when she was destined to become the goddess of the new world to come. Day after day, she spent in classrooms and lecture halls with those pompous neandethals, learning nothing that she didn't already know and having to endure the pointless chitter-chatter of those foolish students that claimed they had intelligence. Spending time with her brother made the years durable, but it still couldn't remove the stench and utter disgust she felt for those years at university or the times she had to spend with their father.

Whilst they were working in Britain, their father frequently visited them but only as a detour on his business trips for Umbrella and Spencer, so he always visited them at university and brought them with him to the Umbrella facilities in London, Oxford or Cambridge, to 'observe the ways and methods that Umbrella functions in the world' in Alexander's words. But it added up to was the same dull, insignificant and downright pointless experience every time she went there with her father and brother. It all consisted of watching the corporation create their pharmaceutical products, work on the Progenitor virus that they kept secret, observing how the administration of the corporation worked and how they selected suitable candidates to join the staff.

And it had been the same for days, wasting time to go with her father on his meaningless business trips and watch how the blind masses of the corporation ran around on their daily routines. So she spent most of her time faking interest to please her father and the other idiots that attempted to 'teach' her, the only solace she was able to find was by spending time with her brother or reading through the notes on the Progenitor virus, studying about what it did, what its properties were, the effects it performed on living creatures and thinking over how it could be useful to her. It was a nerve-racking and irritatingly repetitive time in her university years, but she bared with it, knowing that everything happened for a reason, which was to uncover the very thing she needed to achieve her goals. Except, she didn't find it there and had begun to believe that she wouldn't find what was required to complete her ideals.

However, during one of her visits to the corporation's facilities in England, she had come across Dr Ian Stoker, attempting to gain a career amongst Umbrella's staff in the British facilities whilst she had went there with her family on their business trip again and her father had given them another tour on the aspects of the facility as he always did. They had gone through the entire procedure again, like they did on every previous visit, and Alexia had assumed that it would be the same again when it had finished, thus they headed to the interview rooms and observed how Umbrella selected their employees again.

And during this tour again, Alexia had observed Ian Stoker in an interview with an Umbrella official, discussing the prospect of having a career involved in Umbrella's biological weaponry research as a Head Researcher. Unfortunately, the official declared him unqualified for the job and dismissed him from the selection, leaving Dr Stoker seething with rage from the damage to his pride and ego. Alexia, telling her father she wanted to use the bathroom, followed Dr Stoker to the main lobby, where he had been seated in one of the lounge chairs, clenching his hands together to calm his increasingly hostile temper.

Approaching him carefully, she introduced herself to him and opened up a conversation with him; he refused to speak for a few moments, under the suspicion that she was another trick sent by Umbrella to test him, and sat there silently as she spoke to him about anything on science she found interesting. It had been a few minutes into the conversation when he finally began to speak and they spent what felt like hours discussing with each other about all the scientific knowledge that they knew and they soon began to talk about each other as well.

She learned that Ian Stoker was a PhD in biology and human anatomy, showing extensive knowledge and wisdom in knowing how the human body worked, his degrees and diplomas from the Cambridge University proving that. He had taken up a career as a medical consultant for local medical colleges and universities, teaching his knowledge, skills and craftsmanship to others before the Umbrella corporation had approached him. They explained how they had searched him out, studying his entire educational background to determine if he was suitable to be employed under Umbrella and they had agreed that he was indeed suitable, requesting that he head to one of their facilities to have an interview with an official representative of the board to discuss his application into their fold.

But, after a long and probing interview with the official, they had deemed him unsuitable for employment in the corporation, claiming that they had made a jump in their decision beforehand and that they felt apologetic towards the mistake that had been made on his part. So he had come out into the lobby to calm down his temper and think over what he was do next with his life.

Alexia, believing that Dr Stoker was certainly reliable enough to work with and had the necessary talents to work on the project, decided to make a deal with him. She proposed that when Dr Stoker got settled into a new career, she would provide financial support via the family accounts and the funds that Umbrella received from the public, assuring that she would provide the sums he requested if he needed them. In return for which, he had to be ready and willing to accept any favour or task that she asked for him to do, no matter what it would be; Ian Stoker thought it over for a few seconds before he agreed to her proposal and the terms that applied with it.

From then on, Alexia Ashford and Doctor Ian Stoker had started a solid business arrangement that benefited both their needs, and a mutual friendship began to develop between them. They met with each other outside the univerisity, exchanging money and occasionally starting an interesting conversation between each other, their friendship developing further as the years at university flew by. Until she had to begin her work in Umbrella's Antarctica Facility and all contact with Dr Stoker had faded away from the shadow of magnificance that the T-Veronica cast over it.

_But now, our business deal is to begin again. After all the money and funds I have provided for him, he can finally repay us and utilize his skills in a greater purpose._

She swept her hand around behind and curtsied slightly. "Would you care to accompany me to my office?" she asked, taking on the aristocratic tone of voice that Victorian ladies put on.

Dr Stoker bowed politely. "Lead on, my dear" he answered.

The two twins and the doctor headed back to Alexia's office quickly, walking through halls, down stairs and using any elevators to reach the B4 section of the facility. The staff continued to work on their daily tasks, oblivious to the twins and their guest, though occasionally some would stare at the doctor in suspicion, especially the guards, having never seen in the facility's staff before and that they treated all new arrivals with scrutiny, suspecting that they were spies or theieves sent by rival organizations to steal the research. Some of the guards even attempted to arrest him, claiming that he was to be put under interrogation to ascertain his reasons for coming to the facility, until Alexia sternly informed them that he was a special guest that she herself had invited and coldly warned them that if they were to cause any more trouble for him, then there would be dire consequences. Taking this to heart, the guards immediately apologised for the inconvenience they had caused and left to return to their patrols, visibly shaken from Alexia's cold, authoritative demeanour.

Once they reached the office, Alexia walked over to her desk and took a seat, Dr Stoker sitting himself down in the other seat whilst Alfred shut and locked the door before he strolled over to his sister's side and stood to attention, like the loyal soldier he was.

Alexia placed the briefcase in her lap and folded her hands on top of it. "Do you remember our deal we made?" she asked.

Stoker nodded. "Yes, of course. You provide financial support, I provide my service when it is needed. I guess you require my services, hence why I've been called here," he stated.

Alexia nodded and took out the T-Veronica files from the briefcase, handing them over to Dr Stoker. "Have a read through these before I explain why I called you," she proclaimed.

Dr Stoker took the files from and began to peruse through them, taking great care to examine every possible detail that had been recorded on the notes, occasionally asking brief questions on certain points that need clearing up. It took a whole hour for Dr Stoker to read through the notes and Alexia to answer his questions, before he handed back the notes to her and she put them back in her briefcase.

"Quite a challenging and intriguing project you have started," he stated.

Alexia nodded. "You have read through my notes and have asked frequent questions about the project, so you know everything that has happened on this project since I began years ago. However, the reason I called you here is because I am deciding to enter a new phase in my work and I need your assistance," she explained, placing the briefcase on the floor.

Dr Stoker rubbed his chin, thinking over what she had said, then nodded his understanding. "Pray elucidate your reasons for my summon," he said seriously.

"As you have read in the reports," Alexia began, "I am trying to uncover a way to have the T-Veronica adapt to the DNA of its host, thus allowing the host to control the mutations fully without any danger of losing their mind and intelligence. My reasons on this project are secret to even you, but the problem lies in the fact that I have no suitable specimens to work with. They provide no useful data for me to work and it is...difficult to observe the virus' effects on animals, since animal biology is not my specialty. In conclusion, what I need to study the T-Veronica properly is-"

"A human specimen," Stoker interrupted, knowing full well where she was going with this.

Alexia nodded. "Yes. I need a human specimen to continue my work. Now normally, I would have no trouble acquiring that myself, but because of Umbrella and my father, I am unable to acquire a human specimen via the normal means of the corporation. Thus, I have decided to kidnap a specimen, perform the experiment in secret, record all the data I obtain and dispose of the specimen afterwards," she informed him.

Stoker's expression began to turn to one of confusion. "They why do you need me?" he asked.

Alexia stared at him full in the face, her eyes narrowed to cold, tight slits. "I intend to use my father as the specimen," she hissed quietly in an angry tone.

Stoker drew back from her sharply, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping in shock, completely stunned by what she had said. He drew a handkerchief from his jacket and wiped his forehead, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

"I know this is a shock to you," she said, her tone becoming stoic, "but my father is the only specimen I can use in this experiment, the reasons for which, I apologise, are not for you to know. I can only say that he has disgraced our family and that the only use he can now be to us is for my work as a specimen. So, I have called you because I need a competent scientist to assist me in the experiment and be able to handle the ramifications of what could happen, but he also needs to be something I can trust."

Stoker thought about it for a few minutes, his expression emotionless as his mind recalled everything she had told him, before he spoke up again.

"I understand fully of why you need the human specimen and I will not pry into your reasons for using your father as the test subject, but I must ask what will I receive from this? After all, this is a business deal and there is always a fair to be made between businessmen," he replied.

Alexia laughed. "Always the medical practitioner with a business sense. Very well, I shall have a large donation of money donated into your account," she stated.

Stoker shook his head, his features looking stern. "I have neither need nor desire for money. My current occupation supplies me with the necessary funds and I am finanically sound," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Alexia arched an eyebrow at him in curiosity. "Then what is it you wish for?"

Stoker's lips formed into a scowl. "To repair my damaged pride. To have an occupation in this corporation that was denied to me years ago!" he stated, his tone becoming angry, a reflection of the rage he felt from his pride and ego being harmed by the refusal of his application.

"Then help us!" Alfred exclaimed, stepping forward.

Alexia and Stoker both snapped a curious stare in his direction, patiently waiting for him to continu with what he had to say. Alfred's expression soon turned nervous, sweat dotting his forehead and he swallowed hard, composing himself to speak.

After a few seconds, he took a deep breath. "It's simple. As we are to use our maggot-of-a-father in the experiment, we will have to inform the corporation that our father had died in a rather horrible accident and, as a result, I will be elected to the status as Head of the family, since Alexia has more important endeavors to focus on. Thus, if an occupation in Umbrella is what you want, I can offer you an occupation as a member of staff at our personal estate on Rockfort Island," he explained.

Alexia smiled sweetly her brother, greatly impressed by the suggestion he had brought forward for Dr Stoker. She was proud of her brother that he could still bring up intelligent points or suggestions that were very useful to her cause, proving his eternal loyalty and service to her. Ever since they discovered their father's dirty secret, he had been emotionally distraught and afraid that she would abandon him after learning the truth about their birth, but Alexia assured him that she was grateful for his servitude and needed him still, which was true because he was one of the very few people she could trust or rely on to help her with her goals, and he had recovered fully from the truth (dire as it was), serving with new-found tenacity and the same ever-lasting loyalty as before.

She turned back to Stoker and her expression became stoic again, the smile vanishing from her lips. "Is that a suitable proposition for you?" she asked.

Dr Stoker leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin in thought, considering every possibility that their offer presented to him and how suitable it would be to his needs. "So, if I agree to help you conduct the experiment with the T-Veronica on your father, you will grant me an occupation with the corporation as a member of staff on the island home of your ancestry?" he asked, wanting to reassure himself of all the details and that he had made no error of judgement in studying their propositions.

His answer was returned fully by the evil, sadistic grins that appeared on the lips, a dark smirk that spread across their face like a black cloud in a storm, assuring him of their intentions to stick with the deal and the future experiment that they were looking forward to begin.

Dr Stoker sighed. "That is the most despicable thing I have ever heard," he stated in a quiet tone of voice. Then he returned the smile, the same emotion lurking behind it, and looked up at them, his grin as cruel and sadistic as the children's who sat before him. "I love it!! What is the plan for our experiment?"

Alexia's smile grew wider. "Very well. Here is what we do," she began...

Outside the Antarctica facility, snow fell in wave after wave, covering the vast frozen plains of the southern-most continent, forcing the Umbrella employees working outside on the helipad, in the motor pool or transport terminals had to wade through waist-high snow and endure a bitterly cold, full force breeze, forcing them to wear thick snow coats and gloves along with huge goggles over their eyes.

In addition, the sub-zero temperatures and constant blizzards did little to help the Umbrella employees perform their jobs well, causing all their helicopters and snowmobiles to freeze up, their engines shutting down due to the main parts having frozen over from the cold. One group of technicians were currently struggling with a snowmobile at the motor pool besides the helipad, two of them having opened up the engine block of the machine to assess the damage and what they could to help whilst a third was standing on the large metal crates strapped to the large trailer that was hooked on the back.

One of the technicians glanced at the engine, shaking his head at the sight, most of the device having frozen solid, frost covering several of the key components and even icicles beginning to form on the inside of the bonnet.

He turned to the technician beside him. "Sorry sir! We can't get the engine running! It's frozen solid!" he shouted, trying to make his voice be heard over the roaring wind.

The head technician stared at the man blankly, failing to him over the wind. "What!?"

"IT'S—FRO--ZEN--SO--LID!! We can't repair the engine and the vehicle won't move until the temperature gets warmer or the engine can be thawed!!" the first technician yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Well shit, what the fuck am I supposed to do!? Lord Spencer requested this equipment to be returned to the port at the edge of the glacier!! If we wait 'till the engine thaws, we won't make the delivery!!" the head technician explained, wading through the snow to reach the helipad.

"Spencer can go fuck himself!! I ain't paid enough to freeze my balls out here in the south pole with penguins and polar bears!!" the third technician declared angrily, stomping across the containers as he checked the cargo wasn't damaged.

The Head technician snapped his head around to face the third technician. "If being allowed to live isn't payment enough, then what is!? You say stuff like that and you'll be at the bottom of the sea, so shut up and get to work!!" he scorned nastily.

Turning back to the heliped, he waded through snow towards the set of metal stairs on the side of the helipad, holding his hand in front of his face to block the snow and chilling wind. Once he reached, he walked carefully up them, holding onto the railing so he wouldn't slip on the frosted ice puddles, and stopped halfway up, looking at the man standing on the helipad, his expenside trench coat flowing in the wind.

"Mister Ashford!!" he called. "We can't the shipment moving and if we wait, we'll miss the deadline!! What do we do!?"

Alexander Ashford rubbed his forehead in exasperation, feeling the stress and strain of the past months hard work bring about a severe migraine. If all these problems kept popping out everyday, he would have to resign his commission in Umbrella's hierarchy.

He sighed and glanced at the technician. "Cancel the delivery! Inform the docks we can't make it!" he ordered.

The head technician looked nervous, wisely so. Spencer was the man who issued the orders in Umbrella and he had ordered the shipment to be delivered on time. But if they cancel it, he would be very displeased with them and there would be dire consequences.

"Are you sure, sir!? Sir Spencer asked for this shipment to be delivered by the end of week in Paris! If we don't get it down to the docks, we will miss the shipment and Spencer is going to demand an explanation!" he warned, knowing full well as the other staff of how Spencer could be.

Alexander's face broke into a spiteful sneer, thinking of the arrogant, tyrannical bastard who stole everything his father had earned, but he erased it from his face and nodded towards the technician.

"Don't worry about Spencer. I'll talk to him and try to explain why we can't get the shipment there on time. You and your men better get back inside and rest, you have had a long day," he stated.

The head technician looked mildly surprised at that, failing to understand why their boss was letting of their work so soon, but just shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his crew, barking out orders again. Alexander looked away from the technicians, seeing no problem with them at the moment, decided to gaze out at the snowstorm, to enjoy the beautiful sight of the snowstorm for a while until he had to get back to fixing these problems.

_I just hope I can. There are so many problems that we are seriously falling behind and if this keeps, Spencer will launch an investigation._

He shivered at that thought, knowing full well what the consequences for such actions against Spencer if he were to discover the 'Code Veronica' Project, to uncover why his children were born and what their purpose was for him. Once Spencer figured that out, Alexander Ashford would be joining his father very soon by an execution and a shallow burial in the snowstorm, all evidence of the act erased and his family would lose everything, everything they owned, everything they accomplished, it would all vanish into the web of time, should Spencer decide it.

Lord knows he had the power and influence to do such things without any ramifications coming back to him. Alexander never voiced them out loud, like anyone else who shared the same suspicions, but he believed that Dr Marcus' sudden disappearance was no coincidence, unless it was one brought about by Spencer. It made sense that Spencer would kill Marcus because it enabled him, as the only remaining founder, to assume total dominance over the corporation, with the other two founders dead. That was a fair enough warning to Alexander to know that if he ever found one hint of the Code Veronica project, he would be sending him to have a sudden reunion with his ancestors.

"Are you well, Mr Ashford?" Scott Harman, the butler, questioned from behind him, causing Alexander to jump.

Turning to face his old friend, Alexander's face lit up in an appreciative smile. "Don't worry, Scott. I was enjoying the scenery, marvelling at the lush, whit snow," he remarked.

Scott nodded, gazing out at the fields of snow in wonder. "No snow as marvellous would fall on Rockfort. When one lives on an island for so long, one forgets the simple beauty that snow really is," he stated, his voice so quiet that it was almost lost in the wind.

Alexander nodded, turning back to face the snowfall, enjoying the sight of the small white flakes that fell to the ground in the bitter wind, forming the large, plush snow that covered the entire plains. Since the Ashford family lived on Rockfort Island, which was located near the equator, they had very warm weather at their home, with the occasional drop of rain during winter, but never had any snow fell on Rockfort before, thus most of the staff had not seen the sight of snow for quite some time. It was a shame he couldn't bring them out here as a reward for their services, to give them the chance to look at the snow all around them, to enjoy the wondrous sight of a real winter landscape. After all, it was a wonderful sight to watch, one of Mother Nature's most spectacular works of art.

_Too bad that I can't stay here and enjoy the sight. I have work to do if I am to keep Spencer away from here._

He turned around and walked back towards the facility entrance, his coat flapping in the wind and the hood pulled up over his head to protect his face from the cold, the butler following close behind. The problems in the facility were starting become a hinderance to the function of the facility. Trekking through the waist-high snow had been arduous and slow-going, taking them at least half an hour to walk around the facility to the front door and step through the double doors to take shelter from the bitter winds.

The guards stationed in front of the door snapped quick salutes, standing to attention at the sight of the Ashford family Master, to which Alexander nodded in response. He strolled through the facility halls, the butler right behind him and headed to his office, the snow dropping of his shoulders and coat to land on the floor in small piles, nodding at any passing staff member who greeted him. Stepping through the oaken door with the silver handle in the access hallway of floor B2, he switched on the light beside the door, the room flooding into light from the overhead lamp in the middle of his office, and walked over to his desk, sitting down in the plush leather chair.

"What's the agenda for today, Scott?" he asked, pulling open a drawer and taking several sheets of paperwork.

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "Forgive me, sir, but there is nothing I can really think of, except your lunch right now," he explained.

Alexander stared at the butler for a few seconds, thinking of a response, before he picked up a pen and started writing through the paperwork, making sure it was ready to be sent off to Umbrella HQ.

"Where are my children?" he asked, not looking up from his work.

"Currently in the kitchen. They are helping the chef prepare your lunch and will bring it here shortly. They would also like to discuss some things with you," he stated.

Alexander stopped writing and looked up, puzzled by what he had just heard; his children were making his lunch and wanted to have a discussion with him. He found that particularly strange because, as he was aware, his children despised him immensely and preferred not to associate with him in anyway, showing him nothing but comtempt and loathing for ruining their work by trying to come with up any sort of hinderance that would delay it, in order to keep Spencer from having too much interest in the Antarctica facility. The only reason that they ever spoke to each other was when his children wanted something that he couldn't or wouldn't get for them, due to his fear of attracting Spencer's wrath and the possibility that he would discover the Code Veronica project, so the children and master of the Ashford family hardly ever spoke to one another.

_But why? Why are they wanting to speak with me?_

"Have they specified a reason about this discussion?" he asked Scott, voicing his thoughts alound.

Once again, Scott shrugged his shoulders. "They wouldn't tell me, sir. After all, they are very secretive and aloof to others, especially you, sir. However, in light of memories about previous meetings, I would suspect they wish to discuss the matter of Lady Alexia's T-Veronica project," he said.

Alexander groaned aloud, knowing full well that it would be another argument between him and his children coming up soon, more so over his lack of co-operation or willingness to help them acquire the specimens they need to continue their work, casuing an even greater rift in the chasm between their relationship. Alexia was always stubborn in her requests, constantly asking for better specimens because she required them to help her with her work in order for it to advance, relentlessly pursuing the subject, even after he and Lord Spencer refused to grant it to her on the grounds that they couldn't spare any or that there were flaws in her work that needed to be sorted out.

And he knew this talk would be the same way, constant demands and refusals between them for hours on end, until Alexia realized that she wouldn't be able to get what she desired and she would storm back to her lab in a furious state, loathing her father for failing to grant her requests.

In hindsight, he had considered it smarter to just ignore like he did beforehand, sealing himself away in his office and claiming that he couldn't speak to her due to his workload, but she would persistently demand to see him and it took only a matter of time before she was permitted to see him.

Sighing in exasperation, he went back to his work, deciding that he should try and get whatever he could done before he met with Alexia. Right now, all the problems with the facility were piling up and they needed to be solved quickly if they were to keep up with all of Spencer's demands. All the paperwork had to be signed and filed away, the experimental data all recorded and stored in the Red Queen, the vehicles to be reheated or repaired to cross the plains and to keep up with the deadlines that the board had set for them. It was a large workload that had been placed on his shoulders for him to burden and if the facility were to get back to full working capacity, he had to get all of these sorted as soon as he could.

It took him another hour to finish of the last piece of paper, signing his name down at the bottom, folding it up and placing it with the rest inside a filing cabinet behind him, ensuring they were ready to be pulled out at a moment's notice when needed. He walked back to his desk and sat in his chair again as a knock sounded on his door.

"Come in," he admitted the person.

The door opened to reveal the butler, carrying his lunch on a large dinner plate on his left hand, with the expertise and grace that his training bestowed, Alexia and Alfred standing behind him, each dressed in extravagant clothing that he felt a sense of pride towards them for dressing in the manner that their family proclaimed they should.

Smiling affectionately at his children, although in the back of his mind, he knew it had been stupid to do that, he gestured them forward, inviting them to take a seat on the small sofas in front of the coffee table against the left hand He stood up from his desk and sat down in the sofa across from his children, Alfred and Alexia sitting together closely, as the butler approached the desk and placed the tray down on the coffee table.

"That will do for us now. You may leave," Alexia said curtly, her chin held high and her eyes staring at the wall across from her, so she wouldn't have to face the butler.

Scott Harman bowed politely to all of them, taking no offence at Alexia's tone of voice, and strolled out of the room at a measured pace, gently closing the door behind them.

Alexander picked up his cup of tea and held it between his hands, staring at Alexia with a stern expression. "You shouldn't speak to Mr Harman like that. He has been in this family's service ever since he was a young man working for your grandfather," he reprimanded her, taking a sip of the sweet, herbal remedy, feeling its usual relaxing taste relieve the stress from his mind, lightening the weight on his shoulders.

Alexia, her body posture reflecting that of a noble woman, stared back at her father impassively. "We need privacy if we are to begin the discussion," she replied, her tone of voice of neutral.

He took another sip of tea. "Well, what is it you wish to discuss?" he asked.

"We wish to discuss the business regarding the T-Veronica project," Alfred stated.

Alexander sighed, not surprised that Alexia's work had come up again as it usually did before, placing the cup back on the tray and wiping his lips with a handkerchief he pulled out of his pocket.

"I am sorry, Alexia, but I can't be of any help to you with this," he claimed, hoping she caught his bluff like usual.

"You can help, father. All you have to is help persuade us to persuade Spencer that our work is of utmost importance, that it has to be completed fuly in order for it to benefit Umbrella and that the only way for this to happen is to have human specimen to work on," she explained.

Alexander shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no, no. My final answer is no. We already have enough troubles concerning the fact that the entire facility has come to a standstill and we can't keep up with Spencer's demands, so we are now devoting all energy towards getting the facility back to full working capacity. I apologise, princess, but your work has to take a back burner for the scheme of things," he replied, trying to keep his sense of fear out of his voice.

Picking up the cup again and raising it to his lips, he took another sip, feeling all his strained nerves relax and unwind, his entire body calming down from the soothing herbs in his system. Alfred suppressed a chuckle, his hands covering his lips as he choked back laughter, Alexia smiling in amusement at his antics.

Alexander lowered the cup and stared at his children in confusion. "What's so funny?" he asked.

Alfred looked at his sister, smiling widely. "Should we tell him, dear sister?" he asked her in a whisper.

Alexia nodded and turned to look at her father, still smiling in humor. "I have to apologise, father, for our little spouts of laughter because, you see, we went over you and Spencer," she answered vaguely.

Alexander glanced from Alexia to Alfred and back again, his face masked in an expression of confusion. "What on earth do you mean?" he asked.

Both the children looked at each other again, whispering to each other for a few minutes, before they turned back to their father with a small smirk on their faces, the emotions behind the smirk difficult to place.

"Well, you see, father, we have managed to acquire a human specimen for our work and about to begin our new experiment with the T-Veronica," she informed him.

Alexander jumped back in shocked surprise, his cup fell from his numb fingers to the floor and the tea splashed over the plush carpet, staining it a pale green colour than from its usual dark blue.

"What!? W-who!?" he asked in shock.

Alfred got to his feet and walked over to the door, opening it to allow three men inside, one a scientist and the other two members of the security staff, whilst Alexia stayed sat on the sofa, staring at her father, her smirk turning into a sadistic, shark-like sneer.

She leaned forward and pointed a tiny finger at him. "You," she answered bluntly.

Alexander felt a massive jolt of shock course through his body, feeling he had just been punched hard in the stomach, believing that it was just some joke that he and his children were playing on him for being neglectful, for failing to help them in their work-

-when he began to feel lightheaded, his vision becoming blurry and the room started to spin uncontrollably, making him feel nauseous and dizzy. He tried to stand as the guards approached him, holding out their hands to detain, but his legs felt unstable, as if he had no bones at all in his lower body and he collapsed, falling into the hands of the guards.

He felt them loop their arms under his, holding onto him tightly to prevent him from slipping out of their grasp and they dragged him across the floor, his feet trailing lifelessly behind him. He looked up, finding it extremely difficult to lift his head, and gazed at his two beloved children, the ones he had so much desired to create and have help him restore the Ashford dignity that he failed to protect, the two most important things in hs life, staring back at him hatefully, their eyes betraying how much they enjoyed his predicament.

He opened his mouth to try and speak to them, but only an unintelligible croak came out, his throat constricting tightly from whatever drug-induced sleep had been forced upon him. He saw their lips move, heard them say something to the guards, but he couldn't make it out, their voices sounding slow and muffled in his ears, as if they were speaking through water.

He caught one last glimpse of them as he was dragged over to a large wooden crate positioned next to the door, catching their hateful and delighted expressions one last time before he was shoved inside the wooden crate, the lid slammed shut and the lock slid shut. He thought about trying to struggle, trying find any sort of way of getting free from his captivity but his body wouldn't respond, everything seeming to have been disconnected from his mind and thoughts. And he felt his mind start to quieten down, to fall victim to the drugs that were fed into his system, feeling himself nod off to a cold, dismal sleep.

_Why? Why, my children?_

That was the last thought he had before the drugs took full effect over him and he fell to sleep inside the crate, whilst the guards carried him towards the cell where he would be staying for the next few months, as the first ever human host of the Tyrant-Veronica virus...

**I am really sorry everyone that I have updated so late! I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter so I hope everything is alright and that I stil have the characters right.**

**Thanks again to all those who have read, reviewed and favourited my story!!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 33!!**


	33. Chapter 33

Thirty Three

Later that evening, deep down inside the facility, underneath the office of Alexander Ashford, a small portable laboratory was being set up, a desk being placed against one of the walls with a computer on top along with a microscope and Dr Stoker's surgical bag. Another desk was placed at the opposite wall with a folded, arpon, surgical gloves, mask and headwear were folded up into a pile on top. By the doors stood two guards, armed with the B.O.W taser-gun 'Spark Shot', fully charged and ready for use in case of an emergency, which was the specimen going rapid and attacking others. Dr Stoker himself was browsing through his surgical bag, taking out all the necessary equipment he would need for the experiment whilcst the door Ashford children observed. The human specimen himself, Alexander Ashford, was chained to a small chair in the corner, manacles around his ankles, thighs, waist, chest and his hands held tightly behind his back. A black cloth had been shoved between his lips and tied tightly around the back of his head, keeping him from calling out for help, and a halberd batte axe was fixed tightly against his chest, the pole chained to the wall through a small metal ring and the blade thrust deep into the wall, the concrete material beginning to crack under the weight of the double-edged blade.

Alfred could barely keep himself still in his chair, desperately eager for the experiment to start and for their pathetic father to suffer as he rightfully should, for all the crimes he had committed against them and their family. After years of failing everyone around him and soiling the Ashford family legacy, their father would be able to contribute something towards the greater good of the family, by assisting in Alexia's noble endeavors as the first T-Veronica human host.

_I always believed that Alexia could get her work going again!! She is truly spectacular and brilliant! Nothing can stop her!_

Alfred always had faith and love for his sister, even when the situations were extreme or bleak, because he knew that she could make the situation better, to be able to find the silver lining to get them out of it with very little effort. No matter what kind of dilenma, castrophe, canundrum or predicament they were in, she always came through shining triumphantly, nothing ever holding her back or dragging her down. Even if they were to be the poorest, lowliest scum that the world had ever spat on, Alexia would show them all her divinity and brilliance which she had been blessed with, and would guide them from the lowliest depths to the highest reaches. She could never be discouraged, diverted, swayed, misled, crushed or defeated; her determination, royalty, superiority and natural grace being too powerful for any insignificant ant to stop.

Alfred knew this new experiment would be just the same, a true testament to Alexia's genius and splendour, a symbol of her graceful birthright, and the power that the Tyrant-Veronica virus would bestow on the world, hence why he was so excited. The work, which their father had so desperately tried to delay with his selfish actions, was now back in operation and this experiment would help his dear sister get all the data she would need to remove the flaws in T-Veronica. Once she had accomplished this experiment and obtained all the data she needed, she would finally be able to perfect the virus and bestow on herself the role of goddess which she was destined to possess.

_I can hardly wait! Our family will be able to cast away the years of shame that it has been forced to endure and rise to its glorious new position as the establishers of the new world order. At la-_

"Calm yourself, brother," Alexia chided, interrupting his thoughts, gesturing to his constant fidgetiness. "You are getting over excited."

Alfred stopped his bouncing in the chair and turned to face his beloved sister, beaming wildly at her in excitement and adoration. "How can you not be excited about this? You have managed to get the work moving forward again so that you can accomplish your goals. Even better, our pathetic, idotic and moronic so-called 'father' over there is about to do something useful for a change, and he can be punished for what he as brought upon our family," he stated joyfully.

Alexia nodded, her expression stoic and serious as she always was with her work, making Alfred feel uncomfortable from how intense it was.

"True, I am excited about the experiment and what it will bring to us, in addition to seeing that our father pays for what he did. Since this is an important new phase of my research, what we shall obtain here today will indefinitely help to reveal the problems I have soughted to remove over these few years in the T-Veronica, in order for it to be safe to use. But we can't get too excited, just in case it doesn't go the way we want it to. That makes the disappointment all the more depressing if we should fail, if something were to go wrong that we can't amend," she explained sternly.

Alfred expression's immediately changed to one of shock, trying not to believe what Alexia had just told him, hoping that it had been his imagination upon hearing it, when half of his mind knew it was had been real. His sister never said anything like that about herself or her work, not once in their entire time together, neither in university nor Umbrella had such words passed her lucious lips. She always demonstrated to everyone that she was superior to them and that her work was of far more importance than anything else (which was the absolute truth), her determination never allowing her to accept the opinions of those beneath her. But she would never ever say anything to diminish herself or her work, always ignoring the slander and complaints that the ignorant masses constantly berated her with, proving to them that she had no need of such help or advise from them and their feeble minds. Yet now, here she was, telling him that there was a possibility that the work would fail, that SHE would fail, which was something that knew could not be true with Alexia.

"Don't discourage him, Alexia," Dr Stoker advised suddenly, catching their attention.

Alfred turned to see him by one of the tables, currently putting on the surgical apron, his jacket now tossed on the table in its place, tying a knot in place behind his back. He looked up at them, his expression showing no hint of emotion, or at least none that Alfred could observe.

"He holds so much faith in you and your work, like I do, and he doesn't wish to lose that. After all, you are the goddess in his eyes, the deity of the Ashford family, to put it plainly. Besides, this experiment will be a success, no matter what the outcome," he stated calmly, picking up the gloves and sliding them over his hands.

Alexia's eyes narrowed sharply, a sight that would kill Alfred on the spot if it was directed at him. "What are you suggesting?" she asked, the hint of anger in her voice cautioning him to be wise with what he said.

Stoker, however, seemed oblivious to it and continued to speak, now putting on the headgear, tucking his graying hair underneath the plastic material.

"Mistakes are always made in what we simple humans do, whether we are great or small, and we have always assumed that we fail because of their creation, allowing them to drag us down into the mud and grime that spawned us millenia ago. But in the world of science, there is no such word as 'failure', just trail and error in our work. We uncover mistakes in our work in order for it to progress, we learn from them and utilize them so that we may have our work benefit from the knowledge they give us. It is the way of things, so you shouldn't be so pessimistic, my dear. After all, success or mistake, you will have some new and promising data to use," he explained.

Alfred had been shocked that Dr Stoker still continued to speak to Alexia when her voice had taken on that fiersome tone she normally took on towards others, implying to them that she was not interested in what they had to say and there would be consequences if they kept distracting her whilst she worked. However, to his surprise, Alexia's expression softened and she sighed, her hands folded on her lap, making Alfred wonder how deep his sister and Dr Stoker's friendship was.

"I apologise, Dr Stoker. I have forgotten much ever since this project started, focusing on trying to perfect my work and get hold of all the necessary materials I needed to continue it. In addition, with the crimes our father has committed against us and the whole family, I had been more focused on punishing him for what he done and reclaiming our lost family dignity. Hence, why I needed your help in this difficult matter, to provide me with your skills, trust and dedication as an assistance," she explained, smiling sweetly at him.

If Stoker had smiled in response, Alfred couldn't see it because he had placed the plastic surgical mask across his mouth and tied it behind his neck, now fully dressed as a surgeon. He walked over to the other table and opened his surgical bag, pulling out several tools and appliances he would need to use for the experiment.

"How many autopsies and experiments have you performed in your career, Dr Stoker?" he asked.

Dr Stoker abruptly stopped what he was doing and glanced up at Alfred. "Why do you ask?"

Alfred stared back impassively, knowing that no matter what could happen, Alexia wouldn't allow him to come to harm from anyone. "I am aware of how much faith my sister has in your abilities, but I would like to know a bit more about your career, to ascertain for myself if you are reall worthy of working with my sister," he answered, keeping his head held high and his tone of voice neutral.

Stoker simply shrugged his shoulders, semmingly unaffected by the question and Alfred's statement. "I have performed approximately over twenty experiments and a dozen autopsies on humans in my entire career as a scientist, half of those were done during my lectures at universities and medical schools. Although, the other half of those...actions had to be kept secret from the public, if I was to protect myself from an uproar, and to protect my career from my employees and authorities," he explained, his tone showing that he wasn't interested in talking about the topic.

Alfred arched an eyebrow at him in curiosity, confused by the last part of his explanation. "What do you mean about having to keep some of your 'actions secret'?" he asked.

Stoker glanced over at Alfred, his eyes cold and dark as they stared at him intensely, making Alfred wonder what the man was really like underneath his crisp, business manner. "Half of them weren't dead when I performed the autopsy," he answered bluntly, treating it like a simple subject that had very little to be considered interesting.

Alfred was surprised by Ian Stoker, beginning to see a new side of him that he had barely noticed before, although he was sure that his sister already knew, having met him previously. He seemed to view other people in the same regard as he did, seeing them as nothing but worthless pawns who deserved nothing but a slow, torturouse death in order to please their superior masters. Alfred saw something that he liked in Stoker, something that they could both relate and maybe be able to find a basis to establish a good freindship with each other. But even if they were nothing alike and despised each other inexplicably, if Alexia wanted them to get along so that her work would be unhindered, Alfred would obey willingly and co-operate, to please his beloved sister.

_It doesn't matter how me and Dr Stoker see each other. All that matters is my dear Alexia becomes the goddes she was created to become. And we WILL see that this comes true, on my honor as an Ashford family member and a loyal soldier._

Alexander stirred in the chair, groaning loudly through the cloth, and lifted his head up groggily, his eyelids fluttering as the drugs began to wear off, catching the twins attention. The guards pointed their weapons at him in response in case of a hostile threat, but Alexia held up her hand to stop them, lowering her hand for them to lower their weapons, which they complied to hesistantly, focusing all their attention on the man strapped to the chair before them. Dr Stoker briefly glanced at the man before he went back to his work on the equipment, calibrating the microscope and turning on all the computer technology he needed to study any samples he obtained from the experiment. Alexander's eyes finally opened, blinking in rapid succession as he tried to regain focus in his sight and he looked around the room, confused by the location because he had never seen the room before. He then attemtped to get up from the chair onto his feet, but the restraints held him back strongly, allowing only the smallest of movements. His eyes widened in shock and he glanced about himself, gazing at the restraints that held him to the seat, and he looked up at them with a pathetic pleading look in his eyes, his begs for release muffled by the cloth in his mouth.

Alfred grinned evilly at his father's struggles, enjoying his dilenma very much. "Hello, father. Sleep well?" he asked sarcastically.

Alexia got to her feet and approached him, her lips formed into a tight scowl, leaning forward to gaze into his eyes very closely so he could see the malice that most likely filled her eyes to the brims. "It is only what you deserve, as punishment for your crimes against us and our family. You have failed us, our honor and our ancestress, soiled our great name and created us from your foul deeds to amend your failures," she proclaimed in anger.

Alexander gasped, fully realizing what they were referring to, but his eyes showed a look of utter disbelief, him finding it hard to accept that they had somehow discovered the secret he had so long hidden away from them.

Alfred sneer at him in complete loathing and disgust, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Yes, we found your secret. That little lab you had behind the portrait in the main hall, we had found it. I have to thank you for allowing us your proof, it was most helpful," he stated in a tone that was cold enough to freeze the Pacific Ocean.

Alexia smiled maliciously at their father's shocked expression, enjoying his predicament as much as her brother was. "It was very kind of you to 'lend' it to us for our purposes," she said snidely. Her smile disappeared and was replaced by an exact copy of Alfred's sneer. "You thought that you could delay my work, betray our legacy, diminish our noblity, shame our name and deny us the truth of our birth without any ramifications or repurcussions whatsoever? You are a fool; a blind, ignorant, self-indulging, simple-minded, arrogant and stupid fool. Nothing escape this base without my notice, because I AM the true Master of the family, as Veronica herself was centuries ago! And, as my role suggests, I can punish all those who wrong me as I see fit," she informed him in a sinister manner.

Alfred's face broke into a sadistic smirk. "Hence, why you are here. You are to be put to use for once, you arrogant bastard!" he hissed.

Alexia turned to him, smiling a cold, deadly grin that could scare the devil himself in Hell. "Since you and Spencer are so reluctant to provide me with a human specimen to work with, I have decided to 'go over your heads' as it is quoted. And since you have committed such heinous crimes against our family, I have decided that you are to be the specimen we shall use," she explained delightfully.

Alfred's smirk grew to such an extent that it reached the edge of his cheeks, threatening to split his head in two. "I do hope you will be able to provide us with something useful from this experiment. Otherwise, we will have to dispose of you," he claimed snidely.

Alexia nodded slowly as an emphasis to Alfred's point. "Look at this way, father, you will have now repaid for your crimes with that pathetic life of yours. And there is no need to be concerned about our position in Umbrella, Alfred will watch over it for you," she infromed him coldly. She then turned to Dr Stoker, her expression changing to a serious, business-like manner. "I have said all I wanted to say to that maggot. You may begin the experiement if you wish to," she stated stoically.

Dr Stoker nodded and removed a syringe from his surgical bag along with a sample of yellowish-green fluid that looked very much like sea water polluted by fresh sewage. He pressed the syringe into the sample and released the pressure his finger applied on the plunger, drawing some of the fluid into the syringe, and approached Alexander slowly, holding the syringe like a soldier would a blade. Alexander, now truly afraid for his life began to struggle against his restraints, desperately trying to wrest himself from their trong grip so he could escape from his insane children and the mad doctor approaching him with the T-Veronica filled syringe.

When Stoker came face to face with the former Master of the Ashford family, he attempted to stick the syringe into the vein located in his throat and inject the virus through there, but Alexander hurriedly moved his head away from the syringe's tip, trying desperately to avoid having the deadly toxin inside it injected into his body. Stoker, becoming annoyed by Alexander's antics, continued in vain to place the needle inside the vein properly, knowing full well that it had to be injected _directly_ into the bloodstream in order for it tp spread fully inside the body, but Alexander persistently avoided the needle, causing Stoker to miss the vein completely so that he was forced to try again.

He looked back over at the guards stationed by the door, both of them stone-faced and vigilant for any signs of trouble, standing at attention with their Spark Shots held tightly in their hands, fingers on trigger.

He pointed at one of the guards with a gloved finger. "You! Hold his head still!" he ordered sharply.

The guard nodded, placed his weapon on the ground and approached Alexander, who continued to struggle in the restraints to evade the syringe and any attempts of injection. It took the guard several minutes before he caught a firm hold of Alexander's head, tilting it to the left so that Stoker could inject the virus into his vein, ignoring Alexander's muffled screams as he begged for them to stop. Stoker leant down close to Alexander and inserted the needle through the skin of his neck into the small tube that was his vein, pressing down on the plunger to force the T-Veronica fluid inside his bloodstream.

Alexander screamed as loud as he could, deathly afraid now of what could happen to him from the infection, having already examined several pieces of Alexia's work in an attempt to find a way of delaying it so Spencer's attention would not be drawn to them, making sure that he knew all the details. Thus he knew fully about what the T-Veronica could do to a living creature. Stoker hurriedly removed the syringe and quickly whipped a piece of cloth from his pocket, placing it over the wound to stop the blood pouring out of the wound.

He looked up at the guard holding Alexander's head. "Let go of his head and hold this piece of cloth over the wound. But be careful not to let it get on your hands," he commanded.

The guard nodded and let go of Alexander, allowing his head to flop down against his chest as the shock overcame him, placing his hands over the cloth to hold it in place as the doctor let go. Stoker, having let the guard apply pressure on the wound, hurried over to the computer and picked a long silver wire with a needle on the end, connected to a the hardrive of the computer and uploaded as part of a digital-DNA-analysis program installed on the computer, designed to analyse the blood of any subject that it was connected to.

He brought the wire over to Alexander, making a gesture for the guard to remove his hand from the cloth so he could insert the needle, the guard complying fully by letting his hand fall from Alexander's throat and stepping aside for the doctor to continue. Stoker inserted the needle slowly through the hole made by the syringe, slipping it deep into Alexander's vein without much resistance, since Alexander had now passed out from the shock he had received and didn't seem like he'd wake up any time soon.. The doctore, having placed the needle end of the wire into Alexander's bloodstream, then proceeded to wipe away any excess blood with the cloth, throwing it away once he was fnished, and went over to the computer, clicking onto a small icon on the desktop.

The desktop's colour scheme changed to the shifting green and blue background of the White Queen, a large gray box filling up the middle of the screen and the Umbrella logo appearing in the top left corner of the screen. A black screen appeared in the middle of the box onscreen, completely empty for a few seconds until a DNA strain appeared on screen, the double-helix rotating continuously in the black rectangle, a time limit appeared down at the bottom, currently counting up slowly in seconds, with the date next to it. A column of white boxes appeared beside the black screen, each of them having 'No change' written in small black letters inside them.

Stoker smiled triumphantly and turned to the twins. "In the words of Neil Armstrong, 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind'. Our experiment is now full underway for us to start it," he informed them, his voice taking on a prideful tone.

Alfred returned the smile fully, his entire body flooding with a wave of unprecedented ecstasy and blissful mirth, overjoyed that the experiment was fully underway and that the T-Veronica could move forward with some suitable results. However, when he glanced over at his sister, he saw that she bore no smile or joyful expression, her face masked in the stoic and serious expression she normally wore when she was busy with her work. Alfred's smile vanished from his face and his cheeks turned red with embarassment, realizing that he was making himself look like a fool in his sister's eyes, as their experiment had yet to produce any results yet, so there was no need for them to be smiling yet when they had noting to smile about.

Alexia soon rose to her feet and walked over to the door, stopping to look back at Dr Stoker sternly. "I have to take my leave now, doctor. I have more pressing matters to attend to now that my father will no longer be in a fit condition to carry them out himself," she stated sternly.

Stoker nodded his head in understanding. "Very well, Miss Ashford. Will that be all?"

She shook her head. "As I explained previously to you, this experiment will last for the next two months in order for the T-Veronica to fully infect the host and allow its effects to become visible to us. In that time, I want you to record all physical, digital and biological data on the subject that you discover, especially if you find something that can be deemed important or interesting enough to help my work progress forward. Also, if anything should happen that results in a failure, or 'mistake' if you wish to argue in terms, gather up all the data and the samples, sedate the subject, ensure he is restrained securely and seal the room. We can't risk him being discovered by the rest of the staff," she ordered.

She then turned to the guards, her eyes narrowing sharply. "You will watch over Dr Stoker's experiment to ensure that nothing goes wrong. You will lend him your full co-operation and assist in whatever task he gives to you, no matter how tedious you think they are. But, should the experiment go awry and we can't contain it, you are ordered to terminate the subject if it is under the EXTREMEST neccessity. Otherwise, there will be severe consequences for your lack of judgemental sense in this matter. Do I make myself clear?" she ordered, her tone of voice very cold and venomous.

The guards immediately snapped to attention, nodding their heads vigorously in response to her demands, both of them looking very afraid of the young girl, knowing full well the true extent of power and the furious wrath of her temper. Everyone in the Antarctica facility was fully aware of how volatile and ruthless the Ashford girl could be if her commands were disobeyed, none of them so much as even wanting to be anywhere near her in case their mere presence was enough to set her off into an explosive temperment and get them deep into trouble with her. Though despite their overall fear and intimidation they felt from Alexia, they had always pointed any flaws they could find in her work, informing her of any mistakes she had made in her project, thus she would be furious at them and would have smited them with her veagenful anger had they not explained their reasons for doing these threatening actions. Since Alexander had ordered them to be extremely scrutinizing in evaluating her work, they all immediately pushed blame to him in order to detour Alexia's wrath to him, thus getting them clear of any trouble. But the two guards currently in the room with Alexia knew that that previous escape route was now cut off from them completely, due to the fact that Alexander was the test subject, so now they would not even begin to question her orders or her work, knowing all too well that they would have to follow her commands or _literally_ die trying.

Alfred sat quietly in his seat, his mind deep in thought over what his sister had stated in her orders, more specifically over her exact command that the staff and the board members of Umbrella must not discover what happened to their father. He knew that keeping Umbrella out of the loop was certainly going to be easy, thanks to their father's actions in rendering the Ashford family's power in Umbrella obsolete. Ever since their grandfather had died and their father had soiled the Ashford name, Lord Oswell E. Spencer had assumed full control over the corporation and its assets, essentially becoming the enterprise's 'shadow' ruler, the unseen puppeteer of the illusion and power that was the corporation Umbrella. Thus, Alexander could only hold a small position in the Umbrella's administration, essentially being forsaken from Umbrella's plans and efforts, and was only spoken to if it concerned matters that involved his family assets, such as the Rockfort Island Military Facility where the USF were trained or the T-Veronica virus' progress. So, if they were to send a report saying their father had died in an accident (which would coincide with his idiotic nature), Spencer and the board would probably take it to heart briefly before they disregarded it and went on to more important things.

The Antarctica staff, however, were a different matter altogether. The guards, scientists, pilots and technicians in the Antarctica Transport and Laboratory Facility treated Alexander with the utmost respect and loyalty, suffering under the delusion that he was a great and caring leader, always looking out for what was right for them and the facility. Alfred had felt like grabbing a gun from the security room and shooting them in the head for believing such crap about his incompetent father, finding it hard to believe that anyone could even begin to notice any talent in that pathetic maggot of a man, the man who claimed to be the 'Master' of the Ashford family. But Alfred knew that he couldn't change the minds of the ignorant, that he didn't have neither the talent nor the intelligence to do something like that, not like his dear beloved sister, the one who would unify the world under her mighty. Thus, they were presented with a problem because, if their father failed to report to work as usual tomorrow, they would get suspicious and begin to make inquiries into the reasons behind his absense.

_Especially the butler, Scott Harman. That kiss-ass slave-boy son of a jackal, following the orders of his foolish master with the utmost loyalty, coud ruin all our plans if he were to discover what it was we have been up to._

He got to his feet and faced the guards, his face taking up an authoritative expression, his chin held high and eyes staring them full force in the face.

"You will have to avoid mentioning anything that relates to our father if you are asked any questions by the staff, but I suppose your dumb ignorance should help you keep this quiet, since it's the expression you all so normally wear on duty. But I must stress the particular need for you to not mention anything about this or given any hint of the experiment to the butler, Scott Harman, out father's personal manservant. He is fiercely loyal to that idiot and always has been, ever since he had been employed by our family years ago, and if he catches wind of our current activities, he will notify Umbrella and the board may rule for an immediate deployment of the USF to this base. After all, no matter how much a maggot we and Lord Spencer know he is, he is still an employee for Umbrella and as such, the board will not accept that an employee in the corporation has been used as an experimental subject for the T-Veronica," he stated, his tone arrogant and stern.

The guards snapped to attention and saluted at the boy, as their military training had taught them to do, but in their eyes was a hint of loathing and irritance towards the young boy. Whilst all the staff respected Alexander and feared Alexia, they all hated and loathed Alfred, feeling nothing but contempt towards the boy's arrogant and pompous demeanour. When Alfred had started his work for Umbrella's inner machinations, he had openly treated the staff as his sister had, worthless idiots who had no common sense or judgement, a pathetic mangerie of whining and incompetent morons, insignificant masses that could be led easily by the point of an authoritative finger, blindly obeying it orders like sheep. Sometimes, Alfred was amazed at how Umbrella got anything done or accomplished in its work, especially considering if what he had seen in his staff was supposed to be the 'suitable' employee in the corporation. To him, they were nothing when compared to his sister and certainly unworthy to even begin to judge her work, thus he showed nothing but contempt and bitterness towards every employee who served under him, and the feelings were mutual.

All the employees in the Antarctica facility thought nothing better of Alfred and held him with no high respect or admiration, irritated by his high-and-mighty attitude and angered by his increasingly crude insults to their performances, so they preferred to ignore his commands and concentrate on own their endeavours. Although, that would have been the case, if Alexia wasn't there to provide a support and enforcement to his orders, warning them of the consequences that would come from any lack of co-operation or evidence of disobeyal; as the staff feared Alexia immensely and knew how she relied on her brother to assist her in her work, they were fully aware that she would bring down a swift and merciless punishment on all who refused to comply with her brother's orders because all the orders he gave came down from her, due to his roles as a soldier, assistant and 'middle-man' that he was assigned. So, the staff were resigned to obeying every children command gave to them and occasionally calling upon the intervention of their father in case their demands became too much of an ultimatum, but now that was definitely going to change with Alexander having to be the first human T-Veronica host.

Alexia smiled at her brother gratefully, thanking him for his continuous contributions to her work before she shapped her head round to face Stoker, her expression stoic once more.

"I leave this experiment in your care, my good friend. Please don't disappoint me," she said bluntly.

Stoker chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it, my dear lady," he retorted just as bluntly, his tone of voice sounding very much amused.

Alexia nodded at him before she turned to face Alfred. "Come, brother. We have much to do," she snapped sharply.

Alfred hurried over to her side, walking out of the door behind her and closing it shut once he came through, catching a glimpse of Stoker going back to work on the computer as the guards went back to their position by the door and Alexander continued to moan and groan as the T-Veronica flooded through his system. He followed Alexia up to the top of the stairs, where she entered a few numbers on a keypad installed in the wall, the keypad accepting the code with a few rapid, high-pitched beeps, flashing a green light for a few seconds before the wall slid up on the metal rails installed in the frame of the doorway.

Both of the twins stepped through the door way and walked over to the exit of the power room as the hidden passageway slid shut behind them silently, the keypad resetting the lock with a low beep that was masked by the loud hum of the generator. Some of the technicians inside the power room looked up from what they were doing to glance at them suspiciously, wondering to themselves what they had been doing in the room when they had never once gone into that specific room for any reason, but they immediately went back to work when Alexia shot them an icy glare that could have frozen their hearts solid. Ignoring the stares and questions that the staff gave them, they strolled through the halls of the facility side-by-side as they headed for Alexia's private office, deciding to retire for the day.

Once they reached the office, Alfred shut the door and locked it whilst Alexia strolled over to her desk and took a seat, picking up a pen in her slender hand and started to write something on a blank piece of paper, her delicate hands causing the pen to turn, slide, swivel and rotate along the paper as it wrote the words she wanted. Alfred stepped up to his sister and took the seat opposite her, keeping quiet so as not to disturb her, taking the time to admire her, to admire the way her beautiful eyes concentrated hard on the piece of paper she was writing on, the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders and back like a golden waterfall of sunlight, the way her delicate hands circled and slid across the paper with the pen in hand or reaching up to brush stray bangs of her hair from her eyes-

"What is it, brother?" she asked suddenly, snapping him from his thoughts.

Alfred jumped back in surprise and began to blush bright pink in his cheeks with embarassment, feeling very foolish for staring at his sister in such a daze, dropping his head to face the floor as he couldn't look at her in the face, his hands rubbing together nervously.

"Sorry, Alexia. I was just thinking," he bluffed, hoping to avoid any further embarassment.

She put down the pen and spun around to face him, her eyes staring at him impassively and her hands folded in her lap. "What is it?"

Alfred cringed slightly in worry, knowing that he had to think of something to say if he didn't want to sound like a fool in front of his beloved sister, and he combed through his memory to find a good topic to discuss, suggestions of what to say to her going through his head a mile a minute, but he abandoned most of them as soon as they appeared because he had to find a suitable question to ask her, not some random piece of information that she would find no interest in. He continued to search through his mind for a decent topic to talk about with her, beginning to feel the pressure of the tense silence weigh down on him as Alexia waited patiently for him to say something, and he decided to ask something that would be relevant to her work.

He took a deep breath to compose himself and cleared his throat loudly, hoping to himself that he wouldn't sound like an idiot in front of her.

"What shall we do about Spencer and the board? They will want to know what has happened to our father once he fails to turn up to any meeting or event that Umbrella has put together or established. How will we explain his absense?" he asked, praying silently to himself that he had said the right thing.

Another few seconds of tense silence past as Alexia contemplated an answer to the question her brother gave her, before she turned back to her desk and picked up the pen to start writing again.

"It is simple, Alfred. We will send them a false report saying that our father sadly died in an accident and that his body can not be recovered. Since our father has started some construction work to expand the facility and create new space, a lot of mining equipment has been brought in to help drill through the ice and build the room foundations for the expansion. Now, all we have to do is sabotage some of the equipment, cause an accident in which most of the construction will fall into the ocean, send a report to Umbrella to inform them that our father was among the dead during his supervising of the operation and that we cannot retrieve his body due to the fact that he had fallen into the ocean," she explained sternly, not once looking up from her work.

Alfred stared at her dumbfounded, feeling like he should slap himself across the face for failing to pay attention to whatever went on in the facility around him and causing Alexia to be distracted from her work in order for her to come up with a cover-up on their work when he should be the one having to figure that one out, helping her every step of the way as his role dictated instead of placing his burdens on her shoulders. He had never known about the construction and expansion work that his father had started, only noticing the large amount of heavy machinery that had been delivered to the depot and hangar, but he paid them no heed whatsoever because, as he hated his father and the rest of staff, he found neither the slightest interest nor care to learn about their actions, except if his sister had ordered for him to do so, thus he preferred to ignore the endeavours of those pathetic maggots that dared to judge his sister.

_But if I am to help my sister, I must pay more attention to whatever happens in this facility and be more open minded on how it could help us._

He focused back on Alexia and cleared his throat awkwardly. "How should I create this 'accident'?" he asked nervously, feeling like a fool for having to seek her counsol again when he should be using his own intelligence to plan things.

Alexia chuckled slightly. "Use your imagination, brother. Sabotage the equipment to explode or cause some scaffolding to collapse. She just need a big accident to happen that will result in many deaths, then we can write and change it to suit our purposes that our father had been in the accident," she answered.

Alfred smiled in delight at the concept, beginning to look forward to the idea of causing an accident to the maggots that slaved to the pathetic wretch that was his father, a dark and wonderful joy spreading through his being, making him shiver in ecstacy. He took an enormous delight and pleasure in causing the insignificant masses of the world to suffer, finding it most enjoyable to watch the quirm in terrible agony and pain as they were tortured to the very brink of insanity. After all, they were expendable, merely tools and objects that only existed for his sister to use in her work and for him to dispose of, sheep that were to be led and guided throughout their lives until they no longer had a use in their endeavours except to be thrown in the slaughter.

"Be patient though, Alfred. Wait for the most ample opportunity to set up the accident, otherwise everything we have worked for will be put into jeopardy," she advised, her tone of voice sounding cautious due to the smile she could read on his face.

Alfred's smile vanished and his expression grew stoic again. "Of course, Alexia. I live to serve your every whim," he stated, his tone filled with the loyalty and love that he felt for her, that he had always felt for her ever since they were born.

Alexia smiled sweetly at her brother, getting up from her seat and walking over to him, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, causing him to flush in embarassment. She pulled back from her brother, still smiling her sweet, perfect grin, and stared at him with the same love and affection he felt for her.

"You have my gratitude, as always, for your great service to me, brother," she said lovingly. She then turned back to her desk and sat back down on her chair, taking up pen again to continue writing where she had left off. "Now, I recommend that you get some rest and sleep well tonight. You have earned it," she stated.

Alfred nodded and stood up, heading towards the office door, but not before he planted a quick kiss on Alexia's soft cheek, enjoying the feel of her silky smooth skin against his rough lips. Leaving the office, he shut the dootr behind him so Alexia wouldn't be disturbed by any of the noise outside and headed towards his new bedroom that he had found; when he had gone on another expedition to the secret area behind the portrait door, he had found two identical bedrooms at the far end of the hall, linked by a secret door disguised as a statue set against the wall that separated them. He had told Alexia about them and they both agreed to move into there from now on, so they could get some rest without having to worry about any noise from the staff, any interruptions from uninvited guests or people that they didn't particularly want to be any near with, such as their father. Only a few members of staff knew that they now resided in those rooms, namely most of the security, the cooks, the butler, the maids and a few scientists, so only people that they had listed as necessary knew where to contact them at certain times of the day if they were needed.

He continued through the halls of the facility, ignoring the stares or greetings he got from the staff, and stepped inside his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He strolled over to his wardrobe and opened it to pull out a neatly folded, pale blue nightshirt with matching trousers, taking them behind the dressing panel and placing them down whilst he got undressed from his clothes, tossing them over the frame of the panel to hang there. It took him a few minutes to undress from his clothes and to change into his nightclothes, glancing at the mirror above the his dresser to see that everything was in place, before he walked over to his bed and slid under the covers, clapping his hands together to turn off the light.

Alfred lay there in his bed for a few seconds, his eyes wide awake and staring at the ceiling that was shrouded in darkness until his eyelids grew too heavy for him to keep open, his body lulling him to sleep and dreams beginning to fill his mind, dreams of him spending eternity with his sister, slow dancing together, him as her loyal soldier and servant, protecting her from the maggots down below, she as the goddess she was destined to be, her divine new order spread to all the four corners of the globe. And they were together, an inseparable pair, brother and sister, servant and master, soldier and leader, worshipper and goddess. His lips formed into a small affectionate smile as more dreams filled his mind, dreams of the radiant and beautiful goddess that was his sister...

April 22nd 1983. A day like any other for most people, the beginning of the seasonal change from spring to summer, the world climate continuing its never-ending cycle that was handed down by Mother Nature. For the average person, this would be the start of the season where families go on holidays abroad, people flock to the beaches to sunbathe and swin in the ocean, and where children could play in parks, fields or near a sprinkling fire hydrant, laughing in joy and mirth as they play in the warm heat of the summer season. However, for the Umbrella corporation, there was no difference between the season for them, no changes from tasks or activities, because all that mattered was their work on pharmaceuticals for the public and their secret projects on biological weaponry for themselves. One such example was the sleek black helicopter that flew through the snowy winds of the Antarctica, the sunlight reflecting off the snow and the black metal of the flying vehicle, the pilots guiding it on its course whilst their passenger was sound asleep after a day's work for the corporation.

The soft, mechanical noise of the helicopter's blades were like a lullaby to Alexia, soothing her exhausted mind and lulling her body into a deep, restful sleep as she sat in the back of the cabin, the bench's seatbelt fastened tightly but comfortably around her waist. She snored softly in her sleep, ignoring the conversations between the pilots and the sound of the wind blowing outside as the helicopter continued its journey back to the Antarctica facility. All worries, tasks and problems were cleared from her mind, allowing her to have some peaceful rest from all the exhausting events of the day, her body relaxed comfortably in the bench and her senses ignorant to all activities around her. She spent the rest of the journey back to the facility sleeping peacefully, not noticing that they had soon landed back in the hangar until one of the pilots stepped into the cabin and shook her awake gently, helping her out of the door when she still felt drowsy from her sleep.

As the pilot lowered Alexia to the ground, his hands holding her firmly underneath her arms, one of the maids strolled up to them cautiously, hoping that the young girl wasn't to angry or volatile after the party or her short sleep.

"Welcome back, maam." she chirped in her overly-cheery tone of voice, an equally irritating smile on her lips.

Alexia stared back at the maid with cold eyes, the drowsiness from her mind cast off like a snake's shedded skin, her lips taking on a small yet noticeable frown. "Has anything happened in my absence" she aasked sternly.

The maid bit her lip and gazed up at the ceiling, combing through her memory for anything that was worth mentioning to the child, before she focused back on Alexia. "Well, the depot has finally gotten back on track with its deliveries to the corporation and all the machinery is finally working properly again, what with the temperature now getting a bit warmer this time of year, but aside from that, it's been the same as ever around here," she answered, still in that irritating cheery tone.

"I'm not sure if you could call it 'the same', especially since...that day," one of the pilots claimed, his tone of voice very grim.

The maid's smile vanished to be replaced by a downhearted expression and she lowered her head, placing a hand over her heart in sorrow and respect, tears beginning to roll down her face. One of the pilots removed his helmet and placed it over his heart, giving a sharp salute whilst the second drew a Holy Cross over his chest with his forefingers, muttering a prayer under his breath. Every member of the Antarctica facility's staff clearly remembered the terrible event that happened in late March, when Alexander Ashford and several workers had died from a terrible accident during the construction/expansion work at the site on the western wing of the facility, all of them now lost to the ocean, never to be found again. It had been very traumatic for them all to lose their respected employer in such a way and they still were failing to cope with the grief that they felt at his passing, their sorrowfu tears and sobsbarely hidden behind the composure that only their sheer determination kept up.

The following days after that, the facility had closed down briefly in order for the staff and children to attend a funeral that the Umbrella corporation had set up on Rockfort Island for Alexander Ashford, and for the repairs to be made on the site so that the construction work could be finished. It had been a day of crying, weeping and mourning for most of the people there, some of the attendants having to get up on the podium to talk about his 'accomplishments' which Alexia found particularly difficult to refrain from laughing at, offering their sympathies to one other on how great a man and father he was, and trying to enjoy the receptiom afterwards. For everyone else there, it had been a dismal and depressing day for them, but Alexia and her loyal brother found it to be one of the most enjoyable days of their life, knowing that they had successfully fooled the entire Umbrella corporation into believing their father was dead and they could now continue their work on the T-Veronica unhindered by outside interference, since she could now gain anything she wanted from the current Master of the family, her faithful soldier and brother, Alfred.

_Alfred did a good job in planning that accident. I have to admit, I am impressed._

Heeding to her advice, Alfred had planned out every aspect of the accident carefully, observing the activities of the construction workers under the pretense that he was told by his father to check up on them occasionally and had informed her of his plan before he started it, to get her approval, to which she gave him fully, proud of him that he had proven to her and himself that he could work things out on his own. Then, near the end of March, he put his plan into effect; he had sabotaged the heavy-lifting crane in order for the grapple to short circuit and drop the machinery it was carrying onto the scaffolding beneath it by cutting a couple of wires in its circuitry with some tools he stole from the technicians. The scaffolding's support beams had collapsed under the extra weight forced on it when the large digger fell on it and the machinery, workers and scaffolding fell down the ice glaciers into the ocean, what was left of the scaffolding had been destroyed by the explosion of a gas main and the fuel tank of the fallen digger. Luckily, Alfred had managed to accomplish his task without detection, reporting back to her immediately after he had returned all his 'borrowed' equipment, and they had soon received the news from the butler about the accident, about how they had lost several of their workers due to a crane malfunction, unstable scaffolding and an explosion that still raged in the site, the guards still fighting to put them out. As head of the facility, she had to examine the area to investigate the damage and assess what they were to do about the losses they had suffered, so she had followed the butler to the scene and examined the scene as her role dictated, making it seem like she was trying to uncover the source of the problem when she was actually erasing any evidence that her brother may have left behind during his mission.

Assuring herself that there was no evidence to be found of their involvement, she had taken out her father's proof from her pocket, which she had stolen prior to the cover-up from her father during the experiment, and held it in her hands, putting on the act of an emotionally distraught girl who had realized that a person close to her was dead. She had stumbled up to the butler, masking her face with an expression of wrenching sorrow and heart-shattering grief, informing them in a choked, sobbing voice that her father had been there to supervise the construction work when the accident happened, holding out the proof with trembling hands as a sign of proof to her claims. The staff, being the idiotic and emotional saps that they were, believed her every word and did whatever they could to comfort her, seeing Alexia as a grieving daughter who had lost her only parent, and decided that they would write out the report on her father's death for her, saving her the grief and trouble of doing it herself. A few weeks later, a reply from Lord Spencer came to her, expressing his deepest condolences and sympathies towards her father's death, extending his offer to assist her with the T-Veronica project in any matter and the invitation to the funeral that he had set up for him at their family home of Rockfort Island. She accepted it without hesistation and gave him her most fondest gratitude for his assistance on the matter, knowing full well that she couldn't deny his invitation or refute his offer, since he was still the man who ruled Umbrella's hierarchy and that, despite her father's official 'death', the Ashford family could not regain its former position as a power in Umbrella's inner-machinations, so she was forced to obey whatever request or order he gave to her if she wanted to avoid any interference from him.

_Once the T-Veronica is fully complete and I can unlock its true potential, my new world order will begin. I shall become the goddes that I was destined to be-_

"Miss Ashford, are you well?" the maid asked, sounding very concerned, interrupting her thoughts.

Alexia faced the maid with a sorrowful expression on her face, allowing a tear to fall slowly down her cheek. "I...I was j-j...just thinking about...about my father. I...I...I miss him!! I miss him so much!!" she cried, her voice becoming choked with feigned sobs.

The maid, apparently lacking the intellect to notice the feigned emotions, looked at her with a comforting expression on her face. "Don't worry, Miss Ashford. He has gone to a better place, along with your grandfather and noble ancestress, as a reward for the good things he has done for your family and for yourself. You shouldn't mourn that he is dead, but rather celebrate that he had lived in the first place. It may not ease the pain, but it will hep you cope with it," she stated in a soothing tone, stroking the girl's head gently.

Alexia wiped the fake tears from her eyes and nodded at the maid, her expression one of gratitude when, in the back of her mind, she felt disgusted that this wrench could so much as suggest to celebrate the existence of that worthless neandethal to her, but she repressed the thoughts temporarily so that she could keep up the act that she put on for the staff.

"I...I would like to go back to my room now," she said, her voice sounding timid and fragile, not like the stern and authoritative tone she normally had when speaking to the staff.

The maid nodded, that irritatingly cheery smile on her lips again. "Well, then, we best get going. Lets get you out of these clothes and ready for bed, so you could catch up on some well-deserved sleep and I'll have the cooks prepare a small meal for you," she said in her usual cheery tone that Alexia found obnoxious.

Alexia nodded and walked ahead of the maid at a brisk pace, heading for the elevator of the hangar, with the servant girl trailing behind her, stepping through the doors and pushing the button for the ground floor. The elevator soon came to a stop with a high-pitched ping and the doors opened with a hiss, the metal doors whining as it rolled aside on its rails to let its passengers off. The girl and the maid walked along the circular catwalk of the dome chamber, climbing down the ladder at the end of the walkway, Alexia having difficulty doing so in her black dress shoes and expensive, dark green satin dress, and proceeded to the doors that led to the balcony overlooking the main conveyor room-

-when Alexia suddenly cried out in pain, dropping to her knees and clutching her feet, a blistering pain shooting through her toes, making it hard for her to stand without making the pain worse. She had practically been walking non-stop in her awful shoes, never once taking them off to rest her feet and now she was probably getting blisters on her toes from the constant time she had spent on in them. The maid dashed back to her, looking concerned, and crouched next to the young girl, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong!? Are you hurt!?" the maid asked.

Alexia shook her head. "It's nothing serious. My feet are just sore, that's all," she answered bluntly, getting to her feet slowly and gritting her teeth against the pain that soared through her toes.

The maid nodded, still looking concerned. "Are you certain, maam?" she asked, her tone of voice showing that she did not believe what Alexia said.

Alexia snapped her head around at the girl, her expression one of irritance. "Don't question me, servant! I am perfectly fine and that is all you need to know," she stated fiercely, striding past her to continue towards her bedroom, the maid trailing behind her.

It took quite some time to at least get to the elevator down to the next floor, due to Alexia having to stop consistently so that she could adjust her dress so that it didn't drag along behind or to rest her aching feet from the uncomfortable feel of her dress shoes, The maid often asked to assist, but Alexia sternly refused her offers, taking it upon herself to try and negotiate with her expensive yet encumbering clothing.

_Why do girls of noble blood wear such useless clothes? All they amount to is as a hinderance to a person and a great deal of effort when trying to move around in them._

If she had a choice in the matter, she wouldn't wear these awkward articles of clothing at all, much preferring the simple science uniform of a button-up shirt, a knee-length and a pair of ordinary brown shoes, rather than the long satin dresses, elbow-length gloves, various pieces of jewellery and dress shoes that all aristocratic ladies were forced to wear when attending important events. But she had no choice in wearing those awful pieces of her clothing because she was forced to wear these awful styles of clothes as a way of making a good impression on Lord Spencer and the rest of the board whenever she met with them during either a meeting or event that Umbrella had organized. In fact, she had returned from one earlier in the day, a big party that Umbrella Paris had set up to celebrate the start of a new successful project with their precious 'Tyrant-Virus', apparently having managed to create what they had called 'a fighting biological organic weapom' or some such thing; she didn't really find anything about that particularly interesting because the T-Veronica would surpass whatever they achieved or created through the T-Virus once it had been fully completed. Or it would be that way if she could just stay back at the facility to continue on with her work on the virus, but as a high-ranking member of Umbrella and a member of the Ashford family, she had been invited to the party by Lord Spencer and since she didn't want to antagonize him, she had accepted the invitation and spent most of the day attending the party, leaving the facility in the hands of her brother and the project under the supervision of Dr Ian Stoker while she was away.

The event had been held at the estate of Umbrella Paris HQ's CEO Christina Henri, a high-ranking official in Umbrella's hierarchy and the French Government, for all the head scientists and high-ranking officials to enjoy in the splendour of her property in the French countryside, but to Alexia, it was the same as all the other parties that she had attended. An exhausting period of attempting to enjoy the obnoxious atmosphere and the company of the pathetic pawns of the corporation, receiving praise and admirations from them for her accomplishments or how lovely she looked in her expenseive dress and jewellery, her feigning interest in whatever the scientists had to say about their insignificant T-Virus or the beaucrats' discussions on how they were to further increase their power and influence over the public. She knew that it was her duty to attend these events and meetings, despite her personal opinion of them, since she and her brother were now the Masters of the family due to their father's 'death', and she herself was one of Umbrella's most talented scientists, thus Lord Spencer expected her presence to show her loyalty to the corporation and as a sign of stability between the two of them. Sometimes, she was amazed at herself for being able to cope with being in such a close proximity to those pawns and petty politicians of the corporation without going off into a rampage at them for being so blind and ignorant towards the greatness of their work, for being so narrow-minded and oblivious of what they could accomplish if they could just use common sense, but then she realized that they were this way because they lacked a suitable leader, the proper deity to lead them, and that she was the only capable of leading them, except maybe Lord Spencer.

She shook the thoughts from her head as the elevator they were in soon came down to the next floor with a high-pitched ping, the doors sliding open on their rails with a hiss. Alexia stepped off first with the maid following behind her, the doors sliding shut with a clunk, walking towards the large oaken double doors at a measured stride, the guards saluting as she past them, facing straight ahead at the wall opposite them. The two ladies stepped through the double doors into the replica of the Spencer estate's front hall, walking along the carpet towards the grand staircase and through the single at the centre into the hallway outside the sealed lab that once belonged to their father. Alexia briefly thought over why her father wanted to create a copy of the Spencer Estate front hall in this facility when he could have chosen anything other achitectural style, but discarded it soon afterwards when they had arrived at her bedroom door, the maid taking a key out and slid it into the door's lock, the door opening with a click and the maid held it open for Alexia to step through.

Her room was just the same as Alfred's, bed to the left of the door, a desk to the right with a mirror placed on top, a locked-gramphone box next to the desk, a wardrobe next to that and a statue at the far wall which doubled as a secret door. Alexia kicked off her shoes, relieved to get her feet free of those uncomfortable things, and approached her wardrobe, opening it up and taking out a long, pink, silken night gown for her to change into. As she took it down from the rail and shut the doors, she turned to the maid, her expression still stoic.

"Has the butler done what I ordered him to do priot my departure?" she asked, walking towards a folded dress-panel in the corner of her room.

The maid shrugged her shoulders. "I am not sure about that. I'll go check up on him whilst I get your tea, maam," she said assuringly.

Alexia nodded. "Very well. Make sure he has all the paperwork I requested and that he has spoken with Dr Stoker about our latest experiment. I want all the data on every aspect of the project brought to me at once," she ordered, walking behind the panel.

The maid curtsied. "Right away, maam," she stated, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Alexia undid the buttons on the front of her dress, sliding it off and throwing it over the panel to be washed, changing into the ankle-long pink nightgown and a pair of matching slippers. She stepped out from behind the panel and sat down on her bed, her mind wandering back to the party she had attended earlier today, thinking about all the things that happened there, more specifically the meeting between her and the senior gentleman who all of Umbrella bowed down to.

_Lord Oswell E. Spencer, chairman and leader of Umbrella. He is...different, very much more unique and individualised from the rest of the masses, standing out like a needle in a haystack, to coin the phrase._

Ever since she had first met Lord Spencer years ago, she had been very impressed by the man's capabilities and intelligence to run the entire corporation on his own two shoulders, the way that he was able to fully dominate over all the pawns and politicians of the company without any resistance or defiance, and admired the way that he could manipulate each and everyone of the employee's lives just by the meer flick of his hand in their direction. A true testament to a man of extreme power and the knowledge to use it wisely.

She had seen something in him that she could relate to, something that both of them could form a mutual friendship over between them, since both of them were extremely powerful figures who controlled all beneath them with the utmost supremacy, showing no mercy to those who failed or betrayed them and rewarded all who served them faithfully. But she had still come to hold him in a small sense of admiration over his power status because, despite the fact that they were very similar, the people who worked for him had never once complained against him, made no excuses or denials towards his requests and always fully accomplished what he tasked them to do.

_Sadly enough, we differ far greater than either of us suspects because I am destined for greater things. Once the T-Veronica is accomplished, I will spread my power and influence over this world, and all of the masses will kneel before me, Queen of the new Hive._

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she admitted them inside, the door opening to reveal the maid carrying a silver tray in her hands, a small meal on top, and the butler carrying several folders under his arm, holding them firmly so none of them would fall down and onto the floor. The maid placed her meal on the desk, curtsied once in respect then left, not taking another glance behind her, whilst the butler bowed deeply at the small child, making no move at all.

Alexia stared back at him impassively. "Is that everything?" she asked sternly.

The butler stood up straight and nodded at her. "Yes, milady. All the data on the T-Veronica up to this point, all the experimental results that Dr Stoker has made in the latest experiment and all the Progenitor data that you requested. It is all here, as per your instructions," he confirmed.

Alexia nodded. "Good. Place the files on the desk and you can leave," she ordered, walking over to the tray of food at her desk, picking up the cup and taking a sip.

The butler strolled over to her desk and placed the folders down neatly next to the mirror, bowing courteously at her for a few seconds then he left the room as the maid had done before her, closing the door behind him. Alexia sat down in the plush, soft chair, placing the cup of tea back down on the tray, opened up the first of the folders, pulling out the sheets of paper inside and started to read the first sheet in the pile.

It was a detailed experimental report written by Dr Stoker, his elegant handwriting easy to recognise, dated from the start of the experiment right up to the current date, stating all the results that he had managed to obtain from the tests on the subject's body and a well-integrated summary of the T-Veronica's effects on human cells that he had been able to observe. Reading through nearly the whole folder of papers, she had discovered that Dr Stoker had to cancel the experiment altogether a few weeks ago due to an overall failure that they had suffered (the word 'failure' written in a very scruffy way, indicating the owner didn't particularly agree with the word) with the subject; namely, their father's body had succumbed to the full effects of the virus and his higher-brain functions were destroyed by the mutational properties that it contained, thus turning him into a violent, savage creature.

She sighed in exasperation and shook her head disdainfully, not actually very surprised that the experiment had turned out this way; from her previous experiments with the T-Veronica, she had already ascertained that all the hosts couldn't cope with the virus and their bodies soon suffered from a rapid cell change, thus they mutated into a hideous animal, so she had been aware that her father wouldn't cope with the virus either. In addition, it had been included in the report that their father's mutations had somehow created a new type of specialized, toxic gas that all anti-biotics were ineffective against, meaning that it still had a potential danger of wiping out the facility, even when caged.

_I will have to develop an antidote for that later. But first things first, I must find the flaws and solutions in the T-Veronica project._

She continued to read through the report, eyes completely focused on what she was reading, thoroughly scanning and browsing the report for any new information. Dr Stoker soon went on to explain the means of infection that the T-Veronica performed once it had been injected into the host's body, mainly through the same means as the Progenitor virus merged with its DNA structure, via diffusion across the membranes of cells, infecting the nucleus and causing uncontrolled, violent genetic changes in the hosts DNA, thus promoting massive degeneration in the host's brain cells, resulting in the loss of higher brain functions and a lack of activity on the part of the Queen ant virus. This was down to the fact that the Progenitor in the T-Veronica infected the host's body at such an alarming rate that the Queen ant virus combined with it could not adapt to the host's DNA quickly enough to prevent the cell degeneration of the brain and body, thus resulting in the host mutating into something that resembled a hybrid-ant, as she had seen in her previous experiments. When the host's body failed to cope with the virus and their entire genetic structure became fully mutated, they lost all colour pigment in their skin, began to grow additional appendages from shoulder and hip joints, and their eyes lost all sense of vision, resulting in the host becoming blind. So the only logical conclusion she could find to control the mutations of the T-Veronica virus and prevent the degeneration of the brain was to impede the rate of infection that the Progenitor had long enough for the Queen ant virus to merge and adapt with the host's DNA. Hence, why she had ordered the butler to acquire all the reams of knowedge that Umbrella had collected on the Progenitor.

Placing the papers back inside the folder, she picked up the next one, opened it up and pulled out the sheets of paper, starting to read through carefully, ensuring that she read every bit of information they contained. It was the entire data on the Progenitor virus that the corporation had managed to obtain from each and every experiment they had performed with it across the globe in all their facilities ever since its discovery, each sheet of paper covered with the work of one scientist after another that had found something useful to contribute to the research. She read through all of the papers thoroughly, disgesting every word that her eyes registered and relayed to her brain, making sure that she understood every word that the papers displayed to her until, suddenly, her eyes widened in shock as she read the next part of the data, realizing that she had just uncovered the solution to the problems that she had so vigorously sought after ever since the project began.

During the Progenitor project, several tests had been done on the Progenitor to see how well it performed under much harsher conditions, such as the host's loss of a limb or organ, intense heat of above 100'C or sub-zero freezing temperatures. It turned out that if the Progenitor infected a host in an environment at sub-zero temperatures, the rate of infection is slowed considerably due to the cells having to use an enormous amount of energy to spread around the body in the harsh cold, as the temperature acts as a buffer against the cells' activities, thus the full time from infection to mutation is quite literally doubled. But if she were to infect a host with the T-Veronica at a sub-zero temperature, the rate of infection with the Progenitor-aspect would be impeded so that it couldn't fully mutate the host's DNA and cause the traditional brain degeneration that was evident in all her previous experiments, thus enabling for the Queen ant virus to fully adapt with the host's DNA without fear of causing damage to the higher-brain functions. But to do that, she would need to immerse herself inside a sub-zero environment for a large amount of time in order for the T-Veronica to adapt fully with her DNA whilst the mutational properties of the Progenitor were delayed, most likely for more than a couple of years, and to do so without causing any bodily harm to herself in the process.

_The stasis tanks! I can have Dr Stoker set up the tanks for me to use as the sub-zero environment I need and to engage the system once I have injected the T-Veronica into my own body. Of course, we will have to send another report to Umbrella about my death and create another accident to prove our claims, but I am sure that we can accomplish that well. And besides, Alfred can-_

Her thoughts ended abruptly and her triumphant smile vanished when she thought of her loyal brother, Alfred, and how he might react to what she had to tell him. Alfred had always been there for her, had always believed in the same ideals as she did and would have given his life for her in a second if she so much as wished it, to which she was most grateful for, but he had grow to idolise and depend on her so much that he had forsaken his own talents, suffering under the belief that he could not live without her guidance and care. Yet he would have to understand that she would have to leave him if she was to fulfill her true destiny, that she would have to place herself in cryostasis for some time in order for the T-Veronica to adapt fully with her body and that he had to ook after everything else while she was supposedly 'dead'.

She sighed, wondering how she would say this to him. and strolled over to the statue against the far wall of her room, pushing it so that it swivelled around to open the secret door into her brother's room. Her brother's room was exactly the same as hers, both deciding that it was better to adopt the same layout for their bedroom and the possessions, except for the grandress mirror that stood next to his desk. Alfred himself lay asleep in bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with short breaths, a smile on his lips that indicated he was having a lovely, peaceful dream; too bad she would have to shatter it once she told him her plans, but he had to understand what she intended and how it was to be accomplished, that there was nothing else to do despite what he might believe.

She sat down on his bed and shook the covers slightly, attempting to wake him up. "Wake up, brother. I must speak with you," she said quietly.

Alfred groaned in his sleep and his eyelids fluttered open, blinking in rapid succession to regain focus and he brought his hand up to them to rub the crust of sleep. He turned to face Alexia and his face exploded in surprise, his eyes widening, now fully awake, scurrying back against the bed whilst the covers over his body, blushing in embarassment.

"A-Alexia!? What are you doing here?" he asked in shock, this being the first time she had entered his room.

She faced away from and focused her eyes on her reflection in the mirror, her expression once again becoming stoic to hide the mixture of emotions she felt at that moment. "There is something I wish to speak to you about," she answered simply.

Alfred moved closer to her, seating himself on the bed beside her. "Well, what is it, dear sister?" he asked politely.

Alexia sighed, finding herself not particularly looking forward to Alfred's reaction. "I have managed to uncover the flaws in the T-Veronica that I have been searching for since the start of the project and I now know how to remedy these problems," she explained, keeping her answers short and simple.

From the reflection in the mirror, she saw her brother beam in delight that she had finally managed to uncover the solution she needed and that she would be able to accomplish her dreams. "That's wonderful news! Wonderful! You will soon be able to accomplish your noble dreams and fulfill your destiny that you so rightfully deserve," he stated, the pride and affection in his voice not that difficult to miss.

Alexia turned to face him, keeping her expression stoic and stern. "But there is a problem, brother. I am going to be away for a while," she stated, maintaining the neutral tone of her voice.

Alfred's expression turned to one of shock and horror, reaizing that his worst nightmare had finally come true. "No. No, no, no, no!! You...! You can't! You can't leave!! You can't-" he claimed, his eyes wet with tears and his voice choked with oncoming sobs.

"I have to, Alfred," she interrupted, starting to get annoyed with his rambling, "In order for me to fulfill my destiny and obtain the true power that I need, I have to inject myself with the T-Veronica and be able to have full control over it without any risk of mutational damage to my higher-brain functions. But to do that, I need to keep myself frozen at a sub-zero for a long time in order to repress the activity of the Progenitor in the T-Veronica so that it can fully adapt to my DNA."

Tears slid down Alfred's cheeks and his lower lip quivered as his composure was rapidly falling apart, giving away to the despair and sorrow he felt. "But what about me!? What can I do without!? You are the one purpose in my life and I can't live without you there!! Please!! What shall happen to me when you are gone!?" he cried, his composure broken down fully that he hel his head in his hands and began to weep.

She watched him weep with cold, empty eyes, watched as he practically threw himself down on his knees and begged, begged that what she said was real, that there was some other way to fulfill her dreams, that she wouldn't leave him, but she could see that he still knew, he knew in his heart that she said was the truth and that there was no other way around it. Her expression softening to one of compassion, she reached forward and placed her hand on his chin, gently tilting his face up so he could face her.

She smiled sweetly at him, knowing that it would help to soothe his pain. "Brother, you must not worry yourself so much. It is pointless to do so when you surely understand that it is necessary for me to leave you so that our famiy's great legacy can be revived and our honor restored to its prime. I have to do this, it is the only way, and you must protect me whilst I am resting, to ensure that nothing interrupts our work," she explained, her tone of voice soothing and comforting.

Alfred's bloodshot eyes stared back at her with undying love and utter despair, his lips now fully trembling against his face. "But-but-but...but I...I...I can't do this...with...without...you with me," he claimed, his voice stammering and barely coherent.

Alexia leant and kissed him gently on his forehead, stroking his cheek with her hand. "Yes, you can, Alfred. Remember what I told you before, that a goddess and queen cannot succeed in her reign without her loyal soldier. The Ashford family legacy depends on you as well, brother, not just me; I firmly believe that," she said truthfully.

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise and his lips stopped trembling. "R-R...really?" he asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "The glory of our family legacy can only be revived through the courage, loyalty and sacrifice of its family members, which means you, Alfred. Your dedication and honor towards my cause and the family dignity will help us to re-establish our family where it once was in the world, to cast away the shame our father brought upon us and to bring about our new world order," she answered with absolute certainty.

Alfred's lips soon formed an affectionate and grateful smile towards his twin sibling, the tears still running down his face. "Thank you, Alexia. I will try my best to fulfill my duties and stay strong in your...abscense," he assured her.

Alexia nodded and gave him a small hug, to which he returned, before she pulled back and looked at his face, still smiling sweetly. "I know you will, brother. You are a soldier and you will do well while I am away. But just remember, no matter what happens, I will always be here to help and I WILL come back," she stated firmly. She then got to her feet and approached the statue, turning back to look at Alfred again. "Now, get some sleep. We still have more work to do and things to prepare for the next step in our work. It has been a hard day and we have earned our rest."

Alfred nodded, still smiling. "Good night, Alexia," he said, sliding back under the covers and falling back to sleep in seconds.

Alexia stepped through the secret door and strolled over to her bed, laying herself down on top and pulling the soft, satin covers over her, clapping her hands together to turn off the light. She lay there in the dark like that for several minutes, finding it very difficult to fall asleep due to her mind continually running a mile a minute, already planning ahead what she was to do for the next phase of her experiment. She would have to speak with Dr Stoker about it, have him prepare the stasis laboratory for her to use, ensure that they could forge another accident that she could 'die' in and that the entire B4 level could be sealed off so that no one would discover or interfere with her work if she wanted this to run as smoothly as possible; they could cause some sort of explosive down on B4, resulting in a few deaths of the staff there as proof of the accident and a suitable reason to seal the entire floor. She would have to assign some reliable members of staff to keep watch over her pet ants in her abscense, to ensure that all their daily needs were taken care of and that the hive didn't die from a lack of a queen, but that problem would be easy to solve, with a little background check on the research staff and a harsh interview. Basically, she had nothing major to worry about and the current problems in the facility could be easily solved by her brother and Dr Stoker's direction, so all she had to focus on was the next phase of her work on the T-Veronica.

_At last! I have succeeded! Now, my dream will soon come true!!_

Smiling in sheer mirth and delight, she turned over under the covers and closed her eyes, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep, fully confident that her destiny as the goddess of the new world order would become a reality; in the years to come, humanity would bow to their rightful goddess, sucede to the divine order that she would bring and forsake all of their lives to flock under the banner of her family. The Ashford family, birthplace of the noble Veronica Ashford, founder of the first and finest family, and of Alexia Ashford, goddess of the Tyrant-Veronica and supreme ruler over the entire Earth...

**There it is! The full explanation on the T-Veronica virus! I hope that it makes sense for everyone!**

**And that everyone in this story is still character! Sorry that my updates seem to be getting a bit behind the usual update speed of a week, I have been trouble writing this up (with exams coming up and everything) so I hope this is still good for you all to read.**

**Read and review if you want, and thanks for reading this far! Eternally grateful!**

**So, stay tuned for chapter 34!!**


	34. Chapter 34

Thirty Four

Several months later, at the beginning of December in 1983, the first signs of winter appeared across the planet, great masses of clouds enshrowded the skies with a dull gray colour and caused snow to fall softly to the ground, to cover vast acres of the world in pure white, winter-bliss, turning every corner of the globe into a winter wonderland. The people of the planet, excited by the prospect of an oncoming Christmas, hurried into the streets in flocks, passing in and out of stores to by new, extravagant gifts for their families, a turkey and a wide assortment of food to provide a magnificant Christmas dinner, and a large pine tree for all the presents to sit under on Christmas day. Children eagerly anticipated the arrival of Saint Nick, aka Santa Claus, the immortal elderly man who ran the magical toy-workshop to create toys for every child in the world and bring them to everyone, with help from his elven friends, his sleigh and reindeer herd; parents simply amiled and assured them that he would come, but only if they behaved and helped make the house ready for Christmas, to which the children replied with an immediate outburst of energy and joy, wanting nothing more than to see the legend in the flesh.

Even the employees of Umbrella started to prepare for the oncoming holiday, having been allowed the next few days off to enjoy the new season, going home to spend time with their families and forget about their work on the T-Virus, about the monsters that they had managed to create from the nightmarish disease and how many people they had killed to progress as far as they had with their immoral research. Most of the facilities were devoid of near enough 90 of their staff, practically having most of its functions shut down for the holidays whilst their employees were away, enjoying the time they could spend with their loved ones and family during the winter season.

But this right was only granted to the lower-ranking employees of the corporation, to those whose abscense would not be missed or cared for by the higher-ups, since their contribution on the T-Virus was too minute for them to be considered important. Thus, only the highest-ranking employees still worked in the facilities, either under orders from the board members or because they held no interest in the celebration of a simple winter holiday, when they would rather be doing much more important things that demanded their attention, things that were of personal importance or were important to the corporation that they worked for. One such example was the child prodigy of the Ashford family, who currently oversaw the preparations of the next phase of her T-Veronica project.

She stood by the double automatic doors of the cryostasis lab, her brother standing by her side at a soldier's attention position, watching sternly as the members of staff she had handpicked set up all the necessary equipment for the next part of her project. Dr Stoker stood over by the small control box for the stasis tanks, typing in commands on the keyboard, his eyes completely focused on the small screen set in the control box. Two other scientists stood over by a small metal table, drawing out a sample of the T-Veronica virus into a syringe for them to use in the experiment. Several techinicans sat at the large monitoring console set into the righthand wall, their fingers gliding over the keypads to input additional commands on the computers, the large screens above them light up to show the read-outs for a human being's heartbeat, breathing rate and brain-wave activity whilst inside an ultra-low temperature; due to the lack of a human test-subject, all the readouts were flat and the timer was at zero. In addition, a group of guards, two of them being the ones who were involved in the experiment on her father, were slowly and carefully hoisting a large stasis tank up the small metal steps to the circular lift at the far wall of the room, taking great care so as not to drop it onto the floor. She scowled slightly at them as they occasionally dropped it a couple of times, due to their arms giving under the weight of the huge glass container; luckily for them, they had managed to catch it just before it made contact with the floor and shattered, otherwise they would be in serious trouble with Alexia's vengeful wrath.

_Everything must go perfectly here. This is the most important part of my project and NOTHING must go wrong._

She smiled triumphantly at what was to come, at what she had now accomplished and what she would soon unveil to the world once this part of the experiment was finished, once her work was fully completed. Finally, after months of arduous research and strife, after many delays and set-backs, after uncovering the horrible truth about her and her brother's births, and after the failed experiment on her father, the failure of their family Alexander Ashford, her research on the T-Veronica project was now about to enter its final phase, to change Alexia from the simple child that she was born as into the goddess she was born to be. It taken a long time to get where she was now, but it would all be worth it in the end because she would soon be able to accomplish her dreams of godhood.

After all the research on the Progenitor that she looked up on and the experiments that she performed with the T-Veronica, more specifically the experiment on her own father, she now was absolutely certain of how she was to stabilize the T-Veronica's mutagenic properties in her body so that she could still maintain her own intelligence and concept of higher thought. She had to suppress the activity of the virus' mutational actions in her body by placing herself at an ultra-low temperature over a long time that would slow down its rate of infection, thus allowing her to gain the immunity and co-existability she needed to control it, but without causing her any danger or harm whilst this was happening.

Hence why she had made the request for all the additional staff to leave the facility to enjoy the current winter season with their families, safe for those that she had picked to help her set up the cyrostasis equipment that would keep her alive over the next decade or so while the virus adapted with her DNA, so that there would be no outside interference in this delicate phase of her work. Like her father before her, she was not ignorant of the fact that if Spencer found out what she was up to, he would most definitely move to intervene and effectively shut down the entire project, having it taken away from her and handed to another person, a pathetic ignorant maggot who would forsake what she managed to uncover, who would be blind to the sheer potential that the T-Veronica could offer to them and practically destroy everything that made the T-Veronica virus so unique from their precious T-Virus.

She scowled in anger, clenching her small hands into fists, lips curled back from clenched teeth, her breathing becoming raspy. Despite the respect she may hold for Lord Spencer, there was not a chance in Hell that she'd ever surrender her work over to an idiotic and incompetent moron, to forsake everything she had accomplished so that a lowly pawn of a group of petty bereaucrats could ruin it all for something as common as the acquistion of money. The T-Veronica had too much potential and power to just be wasted on greed; it had the gift of divinity and godhood locked in its DNA structure and she would use this gift to fulfill the destiny that had been granted for her, so if Spencer or any other member of the corporation so much as came up with the thought of taking what was hers, the wrath of a true deital being would be their only reward.

_The T-Veronica is my property and mine alone! Spencer, despite our mutual respect for each other, the only thing waiting for if you come and steal my work is my intense and unavoidable fury._

"Alexia, what's the matter?" she heard her brother ask, his voice sounding concerned.

She turned to face her twin brother, her anger beginning to subside within her at the sight of her brother's loving and worried expression, her expression softening to one of affection and gratitude. "Nothing to worry about, Alfred. It was just my temper acting out against the concept of the Umbrella corporation stealing my work," she answered, her lips crinkling into a small loving smile.

Alfred's expression, however, hardened to one of rage and hatred, identical the one she wore on her own face seconds ago, his eyes narrowing sharply. "Never! They will never steal your work, my dear sister!! I will make sure of it, on my honor as a member of the Ashford family!! Nothing will interrupt your sleep or endanger your work whilst I shall guard it!! It is my duty to do so and I am proud to accept it," he stated determinately, his utter resolve clearly visible on his face, but the underlying fear and dread of never seeing his sister again was clearly visible in his eyes.

Alexia ignored the emotions that she could clearly see in his eyes and smiled sweetly at him, leaning towards him, planting a small kiss on his cheek and took his hands in hers gently. "Thank you, dear brother. I am very grateful to you for helping me throughout my long and hard work, especially since that terrible secret had been revealed about us. Your dedication and loyalty will lead us to our rightful place in the new world order," she said lovingly.

Alfred's cheek flushed red and he looked away, thoroughly embarassed. "Thank you, Alexia. I-I...I live to serve you always," he responded, his voice stammering in embarassment.

Whatever response that Alexia was about to give was cut off by the sound of metal clamps locking into place, whirring in motion on gears and rails built into the floor as the automated systems installed in the lab kicked in, the guards panting in exhaustion at having to haul the large tank for a long time, the continual clicking of the technicians' fingers pressing down on the the keyboards as they inputted all the necessary commands, and Dr Stoker walking towards them, his footsteps clanking on the metal floor.

He approached them and bowed courteously, gesturing with one arm towards the large tank that stood at the far end of the room. "We are ready to begin, milady. Whenever you wish to start, please step up to the tank and we'll commence the experiment," he said politely.

Alexia stared up at the stasis tank seated in the small floor lift, at the coffin she would be sleeping in for the next couple of years as the T-Veronica grew within her, its power opening up to her and her body adapting to its genetic structure, and swallowed the lump of fear that had formed in her throat, slowing down her the pace of her heartbeat. She had already made all the calculations ahead of time, knew how long she would need to spend frozen in cyrostasis whilst her body changed with the virus, had fully prepared every aspect of the experiment down to the minutest detail, so she shouldn't really be afraid of anything at all about the experiment.

But somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread and foreboding that had crept into her mind, the worm of fear eating away at the apple of her subconscious, making her begin to lose faith, to doubt her own abilities and the successful chances of the experiment. After all, she was aware that even the best laid plans always had the potential of falling apart at the hinges, due to something that coud go horribly wrong and ruin everything, blowing apart all she had accomplished and sending her work straight through the blender. She bit her lip nervously as several suggestions flooded through her mind, displaying how the experiment could go wrong for her. What if the life-support systems failed and she drowned in the tank? Or the technicians could make an error in the computer systems? Or the virus may not be affected by the ultra-low temperature, maybe it would mutate her body as it did with the other hosts and destroy her entire mind? Or maybe Spencer knew about it, maybe he had found out about her work and was coming, coming to intercept and halt the work, stealing it and handing it over the miniscule pawns he controlled?

_Stop that! Now is not the time for doubts! You have already made all the preparations and thought of every possible occurrence, thus you know what to do should you encounter them. Besides, Alfred and Dr Stoker will keep an eye on things whilst you are asleep; there is nothing to fear. Everything is going to suceed, it is inevitable and unavoidable._

She sighed in relief at that thought, feeling a moment of embarassment and stupidity on her part for concerning herself over such miniscule and imaginative details, when she was fully certain that everything would proceed according to her calculations. Since Dr Stoker was heading the experiment, she needn't worry over what would be happening whilst she was inside cyrostasis because he was one of the only few people she could place her trust in and he possessed the prior knowledge on the project that the rest of the staff lacked, thus he was already aware of what was to be done and could keep the other employees on track with the experiment. And besides, she needn't worry about Umbrella's activities because her brother would keep an eye on them whilst she was away and she could definitely place her faith in him, despite how emotional he may get or how inept he may seem, to ensure that no knowledge of the experiment will be leaked to the board

Her mind now at ease and her composure restored, she straightened up her posture to the way a proud member of the majestic Ashford family should be seen, held her head up high and faced Stoker, her eyes alight with her unyielding resolve and determination. "I am ready," she announced solemnly, neither hesistation nor uncertainty evident in her tone.

She approached the capsule at a measured pace, Alfred and Dr Stoker following behind her, and stopped just a few feet in front of it, staring blankly at her reflection in the clear glass, thinking that this was the last time she would see herself as a child again. The glass soon lowered itself to the floor with a soft hum and a muffled clank as the technicians around her kept tapping on the computer keys, her reflection disappearing into the floor to reveal the small inner-shell of the tank; the tank itself seemed to be about eight feet tall and two feet wide with a large circular flourescent light etched into its base, illuminating the inside of the tank, small draining grates located in the floor and roof of the tank to fill it with the stasis-fluid, and small slots inserted in its side for small wire connections to fit through.

She turned to Dr Stoker. "How do we perform this part of the project?" she asked, having no experience with cyrostasis work despite her degrees from university and her vast intellect.

Dr Stoker walked over to the tank and stood to the side of it, his hands folded in front of him. "It's simple, Miss Ashford. You have no need to worry about anything. It has all been taken care of," he said assuringly.

Alexia nodded slowly and inclined her head towards a scientist that began to approach her, two syringes placed on a silver tray he held in his hands, one filled with a clear-silver liquid and the other filled with the yellowish-green fluid of the T-Veronica virus.

She briefly glanced at the syringes then back at Dr Stoker. "I believe that you will inject the samples into me after I enter the tank, correct?" she asked critically.

Dr Stoker nodded. "Of course. It will be administered shortly after we have finished all the preparations for the experiment to begin and when we are ready to start the cryogenic procedure," he stated calmly.

Alexia arched a small eyebrow at him in curiosity. "What other preparations are to be done?" she asked.

The doctor turned around to look at the side of the tank, kneeling down as if to examine something interesting he had found on the floor and picked up something in his hand, turning back around to face Alexia again. She could see in his hand that he held four pieces of wire, the sleek black plastic material easy to spot in the bright light of the lab, which trailed down to flow beneath the grated floor under the cryostasis tank; each of the wires seemed to have a different implement placed on its visible end, each designed to function for different purposes and to be inserted into different parts of the human body to correspond with an analysis procedure. One end held a long sharp probe, another was fitted with a small two-pronged nossle and the final two were fitted with small sharp needles, all of the implements glinting brightly as the light from the bulbs reflected off their tips.

"We have to insert these devices into certain parts of your body so that we can hook up the computer to monitor your vital signs; brain-wave patterns, heartbeat, pulse and respiratory rate. The probe will be inserted into your temple to lightly pierce one of your nerves so we can monitor how your brainwave pattern responds to the changes of the virus whilst at low temperature. The two needles will be placed in the main vein of your body, one in the neck and the other in your elbow, so that we can check on how your heartrate and blood-pressure responds to the virus. And the final one, this nossle will be placed inside your nose, pardon any anecdote, to monitor your respiratory functions. And there will be no need to worry about any vein or nerve damage since the cryostasis effect will keep their activity to a minimum," he explained, pointing at each implement in turn.

He then placed back on the floor and walked over to the small railing of the stand, pointing at the large computer screen situated against the left side of the wall where the technicians were still busy typing in more commands for the system to follow. "This monitor will be keeping an eye on you whilst you are in cryostasis and it will record all the happenings in your body's cells as the virus adapts to it, thus you can review over the data of this experiment and perform it again if you so wish. In addition, it is connected to an alert system that runs through to your father's office where your brother now works, so if there is a problem, an alarm will go off and we will come to ascertain the problem, then resolve it," he informed them fully.

Alexia nodded in understanding. "Very good, very good. Now, when do you wish to begin?" she asked.

Dr Stoker's expression suddenly looked nervous, his eyes downcasted towards the floor, a sharp intake of breath taken through his clenched teeth, and he ran his hand through his hair, obviously thinking of what he should say to her.

After a few moments of tense silence, he sighed in exasperation and looked up at Alexia, offering up a well-worded explanation, being careful not to antagonise her, "Well, here we come to the flaw. As we need to cause an accident on this floor to fake your death and seal off this lab from outside interference, we won't be able to come down here that often, if not at all, so I had the technicians there install a little added program for us to use, bascially a timer system for the cryostasis tank to activate and shut down at any time that we preset it for. But, we need to figure what the best time is for you to wake up at, since we need to be absolutely 100 certain of how long you need to stay in the tank in order for the virus to adapt to your body. Thus-"

Alexia held up her hand sharply, interrupting him stiffly. "Let me guess, you have yet to pick the best time suitable for me to spend in stasis, is that right?" she asked sternly.

Dr Stoker nodded, bowing his head in shame and disgrace. "Yes, milady. That is correct," he answered glumly.

Alexia merely smiled at his blight and shook her head slowly, quite enjoying the overall sense of superiority that she had over everyone, even her closest associates and relatives, to know that she had even more intelligence and foresight than they could ever have or already possessed. She had already done some previous tests with the T-Veronica at ultra-low temperatures to see how long it took for the Queen ant strain to adapt to the nucleus of a cell, via a small sample of human cells, a drop of the T-Veronica virus, a slide, a high-powered electron microscope and some liquid oxygen that she had 'borrowed' from the labs. The results she had obtained from the tests were enough to confirm her theory on the T-Veronica, that its Progenitor-acquired mutagenic properties could be inhibited by the ultra-low temperature long enough to allow for the Queen ant strain to adapt with the cell's nucleus, providing an immunity to the virus that allowed it to control the mutations, and this all occurred in about two days after she combined the virus with the cell sample, although there were differences in the timeframe when she combined it with a different variety if cells, such as heart or brain cells. But, taking into consideration the basic fact that the human body contained at least over a million cells, each of varying types or functions, the time it would take for the virus to adapt with every cell of her body would be dramatically increased in order for her to be able to control the mutational properties of the T-Veronica, so she estimated it would take from ten to twenty years spent in cryostasis to have the virus adapt to her body and allow her to control it.

She looked up Dr Stoker, her lips still fixed in her triumpant smile. "Set the time for late December, 1998," she ordered.

Dr Stoker flinched in sudden surprise that she was so certain of how long she wanted to be in cryostasis, but he immediately shook it off with a sharp nod of his head, realizing that this was a certifiable prodigal goddess he was talking with, thus it shouldn't be too surprising of how sure she was on the time frame she wanted to stay in stasis.

He turned to the technicians, his expression solemn once again. "You heard Miss Ashford, set the timer for late December, 1998," he ordered.

The technicians nodded and turned back to their keyboards, their fingers once again gliding over the keys as they inputted the new commands for the system. A digital clock appeared on the large screen over the computer console, the title 'Cryostasis Tank 001 timer-program' written at the top of the screen in bold white letters, the numbers 00:00 currently displayed underneath the title. After the technicians had spent the next few minutes typing on the keyboard, the clock numbers began to count upwards in seconds, the speed increasing gradually until the seconds value started to count up in a blur, the hours, days, months and years values going up slowly as the seconds continued to speed up until the timer read '15:00:27:16:04:00'.

One of the technicians spun his chair around to face Dr Sotker. "Timer set, sir. We are ready to begin," he announced.

Dr Stoker nodded and turned to Alexia. "Everything's now in order and prepared to start the procedure. Now, if you wouldn't mind milady...?" he asked hesistantly, gesturing to her clothes as he was afraid to ask the question fully.

Alexia nodded her head, fully aware of the question he was meant to ask, but before Alexia could make any move to take off her clothes, Alfred stepped in front of her, his face twisted into an expression of malice and anger.

"How dare you ask such a thing of Alexia!? She shouldn't have to reveal herself to you meaningless scum, for you to gawk at her body in such a foul manner!! How can you possibly even consider such a thing, you vile filthy maggots?!" he demanded harshly.

Alexia placed her hand on his shoulder and gently turned him to face her, a grateful smile perched on her face. "Alfred, please don't concern yourself so much for my sake. I am perfectly fine in going along with this, so there is no need to defend me so rigorously. This is important for the project to continue and so I must heed to every demand that is to be followed for the experiment to proceed, no matter how humiliating or arduous," she explained, her tone of voice calm and soothing towards her brother, although she began to feel slightly annoyed by his antics.

Alfred looked stunned with mortified disbelief, probably because he found it hard to believe that Alexia would willingly expose herself and her fragile body like that, but his expression slowly started to change to one of resignation and understanding, as he soon came to realize that there was no way to deter the situation and that he would have to follow it through, despite his objections on the matter.

"I apologise, Aexia, but I couldn't stand to see you exposed so much to the leering stares of the masses," he confessed heartfully.

Alexia nodded her head in understanding, still smiling. "That is alright, my loyal soldier. I am grateful for your concern, though," she stated thankfully. She then turned around to allow her brother to see the back of her dress. "Now, would be kind enough to undo the back of my dress?" she requested politely.

She could see in the reflection that the glass tank cast her brother's cheeks flush crimson in shocked embarassment as he had been asked to do such a thing for his sister, especially on such a close personal level in helping to remove her clothes, something he had never doen before ever in his life, but his focus and concentration soon came back to his expression, and he reached up, with wildly trembling hands, to pull down the zip of her dress. The zip came undone with a loud whirring sound and Alfred stepped back from her, immediately turning away to give her privacy, as did the other employees, deciding that the entrance was more interesting to look at. Alexia slipped out of her dress and shoes, letting the expensive clothes fall to the floor with a soft flutter, then her underwear and jewellery followed shortly, exposing her small figure to the harsh chill of the room, causing her to tremble slightly. She walked slowly and timidly over to the large stasis tank, her small arms wrapped her shivering body in a frail attempt to shield herself from the cold, stepping inside and turned to face the staff, her hands slowly coming to hang by her sides, her chin held high and her face giving no hint of shame or humiliation.

"Commence the process," she commanded.

The scientists all came over to her, picked up the small wired implements that they were to insert in her and slid them through small holes in the tank's side, the tipped ends popping through onto the floor. Dr Stoker himself approached Alexia tentatively and picked up the implements, checking them over scrutinizingly before he took hold of Alexia's arm, sliding one of the needles through the vein in her wrist, taking great care not to cause any damage to the bloodvessel itself. Alexia ignored the sharp sting of pain in her arm as the needle sunk in, her entire attention focused on her brother, who smiled encouragingly at her, though some small tears began to appear in his eyes which he was barely able to hold back. She felt a moment of pride for her brother, impressed by how well he was holding up his composure and prevent his emotions running wild like he did on the numerous times beforehand; despite the initial fear he most likely felt at seeing her leave him for such a long time and how distraught he had acted when he had found out their births or when she told him of her plans, he was now acting like the soldier he promised that he would be, proving to her that he was as strong and loyal as she claimed, demonstrating to her that he could defend her work and supervise everything whilst she was asleep, thus repaying her faith in him.

After a few more painful seconds of inserting the rest of the implements into her temple, nose and neck, Dr Stoker stepped back and gestured for the scientist with the syringes to move forward. The scientit took Alexia's arm and passed the needle of the syringe through her arm gently, piercing the vein and skin, blood beginning to seep from under the syringe. The scientist pressed down on the plunger, injecting all the contents of the syringe into her arm, the yellowish-green fluid disappearing into her arm, flowing and mising with her bloodstream, and he looked up at Dr Stoker, inclining towards Alexia to show he was done. Stoker nodded back and turned to the technicians. "Start the procedure," he ordered.

The technicians nodded and spun around to face their computer keyboards, their fingers rapidly gliding over the keys again as they worked on the large machinery before them. Soon, the glass of the tank slid shut, sealing the young girl inside the large stasis tank and water started to fill up its inside, fowing through the drains in the floor and roof of the tank, slightly warmer than she expected as it slowly rose above her form. As the water continued to reach up past Alexia's waist to her chest, she walked up to the glass and placed her hand on it, palm outwards, her fingers spread wide; Alfred, noticing what she was doing, stepped up to the glass and placed his hand over hers, spreading his fingers over the same places her's were pressed on the glass, the tears in his eyes starting to fall down his cheeks.

She smiled at him lovingly, tears of her own beginning to slide down her cheeks and mouthed the words 'I'll always be with you' to him through the glass as the water rose above her head. Suddenly, her body lifted up from the floor, floating in the center of the tank in the water, oxygen beginning to flood in through her nose, allowing her to breath comfortably inside the tank without fear of drowning. It took a few more minutes of floating inside the tank before the fluid began to freeze, the temperature starting to drop somewhere below zero, her breath becoming visible as white mist in the water and ice starting to form around, encasing her in a frosty embrace.

As the ice continued to form around her and her body began to feel the cryostasis sleep, to drift away into a blissful and solitudial rest inside the freezing water of the tank, her mind drifted back to what had happened a few moments ago, more specifically to when she had cried, when that small display of emotion had first appeared in her life, confused by the very action she had performed. In her entire ways on the miserable excuse of a world called Earth, she had never cried once, never had she before shed a single tear for anyone at all in her life, preferring to show to the world her icy demeanour and loathing towards the ignorant masses whilst portraying her affection and gratitude to her brother for his services in her endeavours. But now, she had shed her very first tear, allowed the small salty drop of water to leak from her eye as she gazed back at her brother, who continued to display the love and affection for her on his facial expression, feeling a glimmer of sorrow or depression at watching her twin sibling face from her sight.

_It is because of Alfred that I have cried. It is because I am sad to see him go for a while. After all, he has served me faithfully and obediently, never once complaining or questioning me, shown me nothing but love and loyalty. And for that, I have shed a tear for him, to show I care for him. It is my last reward to him._

In a matter of seconds, the tank had completely froze over everything inside it, including the young girl now asleep and floating peacefully in the water, the glass becoming white and frosted by the cold, obscuring the figure of the young girl inside, and began to sink into the floor, the lift whirring in motion as it lowered itself underneath the grated floor. The tank sank completely into the floor and several metallic clamps sealed themselves on its top, hissing out steam as they locked together, the lights above the tank platform going out and on the computer monitor was the timer commencing its countdown, with all of Alexia's vital signs underneath responding normally.

This was the start of the final phase of the T-Veronica, the latest experiment to perfect the virus for human usage and to create the ultimate source of power to control the lives of the Earth's people, the last step in Alexia Ashford's research project; the countdown to its majestic unveiling already ticking away slowly, second by second. And when it finished, Alexia Ashford would emerge again to the world, but not as a simple woman, but a goddess or demon...

Rain fell over Rockfort Island, falling from the darkened skies to the small patch of land below, caking the dirt into mud, forming large puddles of rainwater on the tiled courtyard of the mansion, rippling the smooth surface of the ocean and rivers on or around the island, and tapping the tiled rooftops of the many buildings like the soft pitter-patter of bare feet on a hard surface.

But the harsh weather did nothing to impede the level of activity on the island, to stop the people on the island from continuing their work and duties for the day, ignoring the drenching torrent and the slippery mud. The USF recruits inside the military training facility carried on with their training, oblivious to the chilling wind that blew harshly against their drenched bodies, taking the rain and muddy terrain as another part of their training whilst they ran around the courtyard, occasionnally slipping in the dirt and trying their best to avoid the scolding tongues of the PT instructors that snapped sharply at them when they made a mistake. The scientists working on the T-Virus project inside the laboratories ignored the current climate outside and continued their work, preferring to immerse themselves in their research and focus more on the various new theories or ideas that were placed in front of them, discussing with each other what new B.O.Ws they could create from the T-Virus. The mansion staff, all of them deathly shaken with fear and dread, busied themselves with the various tasks that were handed down to them by their master, focusing themselves in completing whatever they were assigned so as not to incur his vengeful wrath.

And, in his office on the second floor of the mansion, stood the newly annointed Master of the Ashford family, gazing out of the window at the rain outside with a downhearted, gloomy expression, the weather itself seeming to be a perfect match for the feelings the boy was now feeling from the loss of his most cherished person several days ago.

_Two weeks. It has only been two weeks that she has go into her sleep and it feels like years. Years alone from her, from my beloved Alexia! It's unbearable!! It's a curse!!_

Alfred clenched his hand over his heart, tears beginning to form in his eyes and his lower lip quivering as his composure was starting to wage a battle with his determination to remain strong, to stay loyal and true to Alexia's cause like he promised, despite the despair and pain he felt. But he couldn't help but embrace the pain, to endure the intense agony he felt now that his sister had left him, that his heart was now shattered and mind lost to the despair which inhabited the place where she once was, where the goddess of his life had remained close and precious to him as she always was. There was nothing else he could do about it except learn how to cope and live with it until his sister returned to him once she was ready, once the T-Veronica in her had adapted to her DNA and allowed her the power of divinity that she most definitely deserved. Although, even with the promise of return that his sister had made and the prospect o restoring their family esteem to its pinnacle of superiority, he still couldn't hide the emotional trauma he suffered ever since that day she had vanished from his life.

It had been only a few days since Alexia had gone to sleep and started the next part of her T-Veronica project, to stabilise the mutational properties of the virus so that she would be able to control them and utilise its powers to fulfill her destiny, to establish the new world order for Planet Earth and herself as its divine ruler, bringing the Ashford family out of its shameful history that their bastard 'father' had brought down on their honor and dignity. And he knew that his role was to protect what little their family still had, to keep alive what little honor and dignity they had left, and to govern over everything left by her for him to do, which he was happy to accept and accomplish to the fullest of his abilities. Yet it didn't remove the grief or agony he felt, the extreme pain of loneliness that was choking his heart in a steel vice, causing him what could only be described as perpetual agony on the departure of his sister as she went on to pursue her righteous goals, to fulfill her destiny in life.

Ever since that day, he had tried to carry on as if everything was perfectly normal in his life, to please the needs of Lord Spencer and the Umbrella corporation so that they wouldn't become suspicious of the Ashford family's activities and investigate the reasons for such behavior, thus impeding on Alexia's work and interrupting the delicate phase that her research had begun. However, he felt constantly weary and drained of his energy, every fibre of his being numb with fatigue due to the intense emotional war his mind was persistently raging inside him, his subconscious barely able to hold back the flood of emotions that brimmed the edge of his mental dam, meaning he rarely ever managed to show his current emotional state to the others around him, except on certain occasions.

The funeral that the corporation made in honor of Alexia's 'death' had been such a time when he had let lose all his pent-up emotions, had given into the flood of despair and sorrow he felt, where he had cast away his composure and wept tears of intense sorrow, tears that didn't even begin to touch how much pain he felt without his sister beside him, without her presence there to guide him throughout his life and be there for him when he needed a comforting presence beside him tp chase away his fears. The other corporation employees who attended the funeral paid him no heed, save for a few sympathetic glances as he kneeled on the floor and wept at her supposed 'gravestone', merely assuming that he was just an ordinary boy broken up into an emotional trauma by the death of his sister in the 'accident' at her laboratory.

Alfred laughed a little at the thought, still finding it hard to believe how blind and ignorant the rest of Umbrella could be, how easily they could fall for simple things such as a report that he had forged to feign his sister's 'death'. It had been a simple procedure in faking Alexia's death like it had been with their father, all they had to was create an explosion in the B4 level of the labs at the Antarctica facility which resulted in a few deaths, giving reason to seal off the levels from everyone else and then he had to merely adjust the report to state that his sister had been killed in the accident. All Alfred really had to do in the preparation of that last accident was to set a fire in one of the chemical storage rooms so that all the combustible materials would go off and rhe flames would spread throughout the entire labs, fueled by the ignited chemicals, burning everything in their path. Usually, if a fire broke out in Umbrella's laboratories, the Red Queen AI would immediately activate the sprinkler-system installed in every facility and put the fires before they got too out of control. However, he had sabotaged the sprinklers and the water supply so that it would activate a few minutes after it caused enough carnage to result in a few meaningless deaths and give reason enough for Alfred to seal off the level. Afterwards, it had been a simple matter of tweaking the report to suit his beloved Alexia's plans and sending it off to Umbrella's higher-ups for them to review, to make some new decisions and to assess the damage that had been done to the Antarctica facility. A few days later, Lord Spencer himself had written to Alfred expressing his deepest condolences on the death of his sister and had already begun the preparations for a memorial service to be held on their island home, Rockfort, thus he had returned back to his island home, leaving the Antarctica facility in the care of the laboratory manager. Thus, he had returned home and moved back into the mansion, knowing that he now had to take command of all the Ashford family's assets in the corporation and keep an eye on everything for the next fifteen years or so, attending both the funeral as part of his duties and to be coronated to his new status in the family.

Since his father and sister were now 'deceased', the rest of the Ashford family, as per to tradition, coronated Alfred on his twelfth birthday to become the Master of the family, handing over full power of the family and its property to him, placing the charge for him to guide them out of the shame and ignominy that had befallen upon them when Lord Edward Ashford had died and Alexander had taken over. And after that day, Alfred became the perfect example of a tyrannical leader, venting out his rage and pain upon the members of staff in his mansion, the prisoners held captive or the USF soldiers in training, literally making their lives a living Hell with his constant demands, his volatile temper and his increasingly bitter resentment, creating his own personal duty to spread his pain to the people around him, to watch them suffer the same pain he had suffered over the years, which was basically tripled by the departure of his sister. He had already chased away many members of staff in his mansion, most of them departing from the island as quickly as they could to flee from the spiteful and vicious child, and several of the USF raw recruits regularly failed their training due to the severe morale breakage that Alfred gave them, forcing Colonel McVarian to relocate the majority of USF training to an abandoned military base in Mexico, thus taking most of the recruits with him, to which Alfred couldn't give spit about. Scott Harman, the butler, had left two days after the coronation ceremony, claiming that after his employer, Alexander, had died, he no longer had a place amongst the Ashford family anymore and thus left to find a new career, leaving behind one of the Ashford family relics, an earthenware vase, as a last act of servitude to the family in fulfilling their tradition of passing down their most cherished relics to the next Master.

_He's lucky that he left before I gave him over to Dr Stoker. I'm sure the 'infirmary' would have been able to 'accommodate' him._

Alfred turned from the window and sat down in the plush leather chair of his desk, his face breaking out into a small sadistic grin that would scare even the most hardened of men when his mind drifted to the thought of how many people he had sent to be 'treated' under the good doctor's standards. After Alexia had started the next phase of her project and went into cryostasis, Alfeed had decided, as his first duties upon his role as Ashford family master, that he would fulfill his sister's promise to Dr Stoker by giving him a position in Umbrella's employment, more specifically as the chief surgeon in the Rockfort prison infirmary to reward him for his loyal service. It had been relatively easy matter in persuading the corporation to let Dr Stoker join, due to his new power status as head of the family, and thus it had only been a matter of days before his sister's trusted friend was moved into the prison and took over the infirmary, once all the paperwork was passed through the board and they had checked it all over thoroughly, agreeing with what he suggested and that Ian Stoker would be a suitable addition to the corporation's endeavours.

However, it also fitted in well with Alfred and Dr Stoker's shared opinions on the rest of the pathetic masses who inhabitated the planet, and how they should be treated for their own stupidity and insignificance. Before Alfred pushed for his employment, Dr Stoker had came to visit him to discuss some new ideas he had for the infirmary, putting forward several requests that involved rather 'unethical' equipment to be brought to the infirmary for him and to have the basement of the infirmary extended to house these new pieces of equipment for his own personal use. Alfred wholeheartedly agreed and made the arrangements to have them brought to the island discreetly, so as not to attract Umbrella's attention and those of the Rockfort staff, having them set up according to the plans that Dr Stoker had drew up with very little trouble or interference. And after Stoker was appointed chief surgeon, the expansion work on the basement was finished and all of the requested equipment was brought to the infirmary with little trouble, thus enabling Stoker to start his own work on the many 'patients' that either came to him willingly or were sent to him as punishment by Alfred and his increasingly hostile demeanour.

Alfred even went along to the infirmary to watch Dr Stoker's 'treatment process' for himself, to observe how the willing or forced patients suffered in perpetual agony from the experiments and to smirk in sheer delight as they begged for mercy from the pain that they deserved, to end the same suffering that he himself was forced to endure since his sister's abscense. It was quite enjoyable to watch the maggots writhe in agony, to see their faces twisted in torment and hear their tortured screams ring out in his ears as the good doctor experimented on them like the animals they were, wearing the same expression of delight and mirth as Alfred did when he performed the experiments. Since then, Alfred and Dr Stoker had started to get along a lot better with each other, even beginning to establish a friendship of their own, based on how they treated the masses of the planet and how much alike they seemed in relation to the subject, although Alfred had already noticed a trace of who Ian Stoker really was during the experiment on his bastard father, when Dr Stoker had admitted to dissecting other people whilst they were alive.

_I do hope that our friendship will last long. Alexia would have wanted it to. Anyway, he is happy so long as I give him more 'patients' frequently for him to work on and I will gladly provide him with such as long as necessary. After all, anyone who dares to insult my family or sister shall suffer for their ignorant bigotry._

A timid knock on his office door interrupted his train of thought, the sound barely registering over the pitter-patter of the rain against his window or the ticking of the small clock on his desk.

"What!?" he yelled, making no attempt to hide the anger in his voice.

The door creaked opened slowly and one of the maids poked her head inside the gap, her expression very small and deathly afraid, like a mouse that was cornered by a large cat. "Sorry, sir, but you have some guests who would like an audience with you. They claim it involves very urgent business and they wish to have your opinion on the matter," she explained timidly, her eyes downcast to the floor, unable to meet the gaze of the enraged child, her hands wrining together consistently in fear.

Alfred glared back at her in irritance. "Tell them I have no wish to speak with at all today," he replied harshly, his eyes narrowing to slits.

The maid cringed visibly from his tone of voice and she clenched her hands together tightly, her lips starting to quiver as she fought back her overwhelming fear towards the young master. "P...pl...pl-ple-please, s-sir. Th-th...the...they are h-high-ranking members of Umbrella and I...I-I don't think they will like to be kept w...waiting," she stated in a stammering tone of voice.

Alfred continued to glare at her through narrowed eyes, making no move whatsoever as the young maid stood hunched in the door, her face directed towards the floor, her body trembling slightly and her hands clenched tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. He briefly considered sending her over to the infirmary as punishment for disturbing him, for being such an irritating and pathetic creature to him whilst he was reminiscing, but immediately dismissed the thought soon afterwards, knowing that it would be idiotic of him to send someone away to the infirmary for a small reason, especially with the high-ranking employees of Umbrella waiting downstairs where they would be able to see it, since it would cast suspicion on him and may endanger Alexia's majestic work.

Sighing in exhaustion and his gaze softening minutely, he glanced at the maid. "Bring them in," he ordered.

The maid nodded curtly and quickly left the room, the door still open slighty for him to hear the hushed tones of voice conversing outside before the maid hastily returned to the office, holding the door for the three gentlemen that stepped through the door, coming forwad at a brisk pace until they stopped directly in front of Alfred's desk, staring impassively at the boy who sat behind it as the maid hurriedly shut the door behind her whe she left.

Alfred's eyes widened in shock as he recognised the three gentlemen that stood before him, having met them previously at Umbrella's big events or parties, remembering each of them very easily since they were members of the board, the highest ranking members of the corporation and part of the group that governed over the vast business enterprise. One of the guests was an elderly man with flowing silver hair and dark piercing hazel eyes, dressed in a sharp black blazer with matching pressed trousers, a well-ironed buttoned-up shirt, a red tie wrapped tightly around his collar and tucked beneath the lapels of his shirt, his black loafers polished to a bright sheen that matched the shine of the silver snake-head on the oaken cane that his hands were folded on and the gold, embroidered cuff-links on his shirt. The second guest was a tall, muscular, aging man with a crew-cut and cold, gray eyes, dressed in a camouflage uniform that was a mixture of blacks and greys, decorated with several service medals from the U.S. Armed forces down the front of it. The final man was an elderly man with long gray hair, a long scar over his left eye that had turned milky-white with blindness and a muscular build, dressed in a blue trench coat that bore the hammer and sickle of the Soviet Union on a small badge above his left breast, white combat trousers and black combat boots, expertly twirling what looked like a double-edged blade in his hand, the freshly-made bloodstains still visible on it.

There was no question, in Alfred's mind, who these men were and he knew that he wouldn't soon forget any of them. They were Lord Oswell E. Spencer, and Colonels Ronald McVarian and Sergei Vladimir, three of the most distinguished board members in Umbrella's hierarchy and (quite possibly) the most powerful individuals who governed over all of the corporation's activities.

_Don't sit there staring like an idiot! Offer them a seat!_

Shaking his head to rid himself of his stupor, he pointed at the seats in front of his desk. "Do take a seat," he requested politely.

Spencer nodded and slowly sat down in one of the available chairs, resting his cane against the arm of the chair and folding his hands together in his lap, his cold eyes staring at the child impassively, showing no hint of emotion or life in their intense gaze. Vladimir and McVarian stood on either side of Spencer, hands folded behind their back, heads held high and legs spread comfortably apart in the at-ease position, both of them standing as stationary as statues.

A small, unnerving smile formed on Spencer's lips, no trace of humor whatsoever behind it as he held out his right hand to McVarian, who nodded and pulled out a silver cigar case from his pocket, placing it tentatively in Spencer's hands.

"I apologise for intruding like this, but I had something I wished to talk to you about," he stated stoically, opening up the ciagr case and taking out a cigar along with a gold lighter that was nestled in his pocket, placing the cancer stick between his lips and lighting it up.

Alfred arched an eyebrow at him curiously. "What is it you wish to speak to me about?" he asked.

Spencer inhaled deeply on the cigar and blew the smoke out, the small gray cloud masking his face in a slight shroud, but his eyes stared at Alfred clearly through the haze, like sapphire stones in dirt. "It concerns Alexia's work on T-Veronica and what should become of it now. As we at Umbrella were impressed by her great talents and intelligence, God rest her sweet soul, we made sure to offer our support in all her endeavors on the project as best we could, so that we could obtain a sample of her work from her as payment for our assistance. But now that she has sadly passed away to join your ancestors, we would like to request a sample of the virus from you, since you are probably the only one who has access to that particular viral strain," he explained, his tone of voice stoic and calm, his eyes never wavering in their intense stare.

Alfed narrowed his eyes slightly at the elderly man, keeping up the image of a brave and honest soldier but, in the back of his mind, he cringed with fear under Spencer's intense stare, finding it very unnerving to face those dark, empty eyes any longer. He now saw why Alexia respected him so much if he could cause this much fear in a man with just a stare, seeing for the first time in his life a fraction of the immense power that Lord Spencer held and how able the man was to control it all.

"Why do you want it?" he asked, keeping his tone of voice neutral so as not to antagonise the last founder of Umbrella.

Spencer took another whiff of the cigar and blew it out, still staring at the young boy, his eyes never leaving Alfred's gaze. "We merely wish to have it used probably in our own research and to not let it go to waste. After all, your dear sister worked on it so hard over the past few years and it would be such a shame to allow it to wither out and die, like so many others I know off," he answered, phrasing his words carefully, as if he had to be wary of what he was talking about.

The corner of Alfred's lips twitched as a smile threatened to appear on his face but he immediately suppressed it, keeping his expression clean of any emotion that could cast offence or suspicion. "I am sorry, Mr Spencer, but ever since the accident, all of my sister's work has been lost in the fire. And even if it were still intact, the labs have been sealed to prevent a T-Virus outbreak and the fires from spreading to the upper floors. I am sorry to inform you of this, but the T-Veronica died with my sister and we have no chance of reclaiming it until the labs are repaired," he explained, his tone becoming depressed at the mention of his sister.

He must have allowed the depression to be visible without him realizing it because Lord Spencer sighed slowly and patted Alfred on the shoulder with a comforting hand, causing the young boy to look up at the last founder of Umbrella. Alfred managed to supress the urge of widening his eyes as he gazed at Lord Spencer's face, finding it surprising that Lord Spencer wore a saddened expression, his eyes rimmed with grief and downcasted to the floor. He had heard many things about Lord Oswell E. Spencer and his iron-fisted rule, about how intelligent and cunning he was in operating all of Umbrella's inner-politics whilst keeping himself at the top, how he was successful in controlling every aspect of his employees lives with the minimum of effort and how ruthless he was to his enemies or those who wronged him; Alfred remembered vaguely that his father briefly mention a family and a 'Doctor Marcus' who he suspected that had vanished due to Spencer's actions, but he immediately abandoned after Spencer's cold reminder of who called the shots and his threat of 'retirement' if he spoke out like that again. Yet, not once coud anyone recall Lord Spencer showing any sign of emotion, not once!! But here he was, saddened and downhearted, displaying the grief and mournfullness he felt at Alexia's 'passing'.

He looked back up at Alfred, a comforting smile growing on his lips. "It's alright, young Alfred. There was nothing you could to help her in the accident, this much we know, but you helped her throughout every step of the way in her project, giving her the support and assistance she needed from you, and, even after her death, you continue to maintain what is left of the glorious Ashford family and have managed to restore much of its dignity. She would be proud of you," he claimed sincerely.

Alfred felt his eyes brim up with tears at Spencer's words, feeling the love and affection he always felt for his sister come to the surface of his mind, along with the pain and misery that he felt at her departure, his lips beginning to tremble as he fought back the tears. The last thing he wanted was to break down in front of Lord Spencer, to embarrass himself by succumbing to the pain and agony he felt now that his beloved was gone, crying out in pain and loneliness, so he kept up his composure through sheer determination and calmness, hoping that Spencer wouldn't notice what was happening.

He took a deep shuddering breath to compose himself and stared at Spencer's eyes fully, making no attempt to wipe away his tears. "Thank you for your kind words, Lord Spencer. My grandfather and I thank you for your support to our family," he said gratefully.

Lord Spencer smiled brightly at him, patting him on the shoulder. "You're welcome, young Alfred. It has been a pleasure to have worked with a distinguished family for so long in costructing Umbrella to what it is today. Your grandfather was a dear friend of mine and an excellent scientist, as well as a talented businessman; he did your great ancestress, Veronica, proud," he stated respectfully. He then pulled out his solid gold watch and glanced at it, his smile vanishing and his expression turning stoic once again. "Ah, time flies by so quickly for us mortal men and I have more important business to take care of, young Alfred. So I bid thee adieu," he stated sternly, tucking the watch back in his pocket, picking up his cane and stubbing out his cigar in the glass ashtray on Alfred's desk, strolling in a regal and dignified manner towards the door, not taking a single glance back at either Alfred or the two colonels who followed him, his cane clicking against the floor as he walked.

Clearing his throat to catch Lord Spencer's attention, Alfred spoke up, "Lord Spencer?"

Spencer stopped at the door and turned slowly to face Alfred, his piercing eyes coming to rest against Alfred's small blue ones, cold and empty as ever, like the eyes of the Devil himself. "What is it?" he asked solemnly, one eyebrow arched up in curiosity.

Alfred swallowed down the lump in his throat as he faced Spencer's eyes and tried to cope with his fear, taking a few breaths to calm himself. "I have a proposition for you," he answered bluntly.

Spencer's face lit up in mild surprise at that statement, obviously not prepared or expecting for Alfred to say something like that, since Spencer had always been the businessman of Umbrella's hierarchy, the man who made offers and promises to his employees, the person who could grant anyone anything they wanted and take it away should it so please him. But not once in his career had anyone made a proposition or offer to him, had anyone been so blunt as to be the one who gave the deal instead of making it with him, especially with someone as young as the twelve year old Ashford boy seated behind the desk in his lavish office, looking frightened and timid as a mouse facing a huge cat.

"Really? What is this proposition you want to give me?" he asked incredulously.

Alfred turned around in his chair and looked out the window again, more so to avoid Spencer's intense stare rather than gaze at the gloomy and rainy environment outside.

"It's simple really. I will give you all of my family's assets and properties; money, labour, land, housings, employees, everything my family owns will be placed under your command in Umbrella for you to use as you see fit. In exchange for which, I get to keep full control and power over this island, my family's rightful home, and the Antarctica Facility that my sister perished at. I will allow the facilities here and there to be used by your corporation for any task that you give to them, but it must be put through my judgement before anything can be done. Is that good enough for you?" he offered, keeping his tone of voice polite and calm.

In the reflection of the glass, he could see Spencer's suspicious and scrutinizing stare that was directed to him, knowing that he was obviously thinking over the reasons why Alfred would wish to keep control over those facilities and to dictate whatever happens, even if it went against Spencer's orders. Alfred himself felt his whole body begin to buckle in fear at the man's harsh glare, sweat starting to run down his face and his hands trembling slightly as he prayed that Spencer wouldn't figure out his reasons, that he didn't want him to have part in the affairs of the island and Antarctica facility so that Alexia's work would be safe from discovery and she herself protected from any harsh that Umbrella would deiver if they uncovered the reasons behind her work. He knew that Lord Spencer didn't get this far in his life and career by being stupid, and like Hell he would start now.

_Please buy it please buy it please buy it please buy it please buy it!!_

Soon, Spencer's gaze narrowed sharply to the impassive and cold stare he usually bore, his face returning to its stoic and emotionless expression. "Very well. I accept your proposition, only if you obey my every order and that there will be no delays or failures in what I issue to you because if there is, it will be on your head. Your father was an arrogant and pompus man, but he had his uses, hence why he was let off easily. However, I don't tolerate self-propagation and advancement in my company, unless directed by me, which your father failed to understand, so I am passing this warning to you Alfred. Any unnecessary action, any incriminating activities, any hint of betrayal, and I can guarantee that you will be visiting your ancestors at a very early age. Do I make myself clear?" he explained, emphasising his words by clenching his hands on his cane tightly, smiling viciously.

Alfred felt himself cringe in fear and he nodded slowly, suddenly wishing that he was somewhere else than in the room right now, anywhere else that was far from the evil man before him; even the inside of a volcano, would be better than staying in the same room any longer with Lord Spencer.

"Y-y...yes, Mr Spencer. I-I...I'll do as you ask," he answered, his voice stuttering slightly from fear.

Spencer's face broke out into a small smirk, the sense of triumph and ruthlessness evident behind it. "Very good. Have a nice evening, Master Ashford, and my deepest condolences on your sister's passing," he said and walked out of the room, Vladimir and McVarian nodding curtly at Ashford before following Spencer out shutting the door behind them.

Alfred slumped in his chair and held his head in his hands, letting go of all his emotions that he had held back during his meeting with Spencer, giving way for the fear, despair and grief that had flooded his mind for the past hour, grasping his hair tightly between his fingers and wailing out in agony as he cried uncontrollably. He knew that he shouldn't be sobbing or crying like a weakling, that he should be holding up the image his dear Alexia saw him as, the honourable and noble Ashford family soldier she had claimed he was with all her heart, that she had always said he was meant to be. But who was he kidding? He was nothing! Nothing without her, without her guidance, without her care and affection, without her presence, without her support; basically he was practically useless without her. Thus, he had felt no regrets in handing over all the Ashford family's assets towards Spencer, since he wouldn't be able to do anything about them without Alexia at his side; he just wanted to give in, to succumb to his emotions and vent out all his painful anguish that he felt in his heart, because he knew that he was just a meaningless soldier without her and would always remain as such, incapable of doing anything on his own accord.

'Don't belittle yourself, brother,' an effeminate voice called out to him, her tone of voice soothing and comforting.

He jumped from his seat in shock, knocking it onto the floor with a crash, and glanced around the entire room, searching for the source of that voice's whereabouts. He knew what that voice was and who it belonged, having loved that gentle voice and the beautiful person who owned it for all his life since birth.

_Alexia!? Is that you!? Where are you!? I can't-_

'Look behind you,' she ordered sweetly, interrupting his rambling thoughts.

Alfred turned around slowly to look at the huge glass window behind, his mind finding it hard to believe that it was his sister's voice he heard call out to him, telling himself incessantly that it was just his imagination, his grief and pain playing illusions with him, that he hadn't really heard Alexia, but his body ignored his inner thoughts, still turning him around until he faced the window-

_Alexia!!_

-his eyes widening in surprise as he saw his sister's figure and sweet face reflected in the glass, her pearl white smile shining on her small lips, her bright blue sapphire eyes glinting from the rain that splashed on the glass of the window she stood in, looking exactly as how she had looked when she had left him days ago.

He stared dumbfounded at her for a few seconds, his jaw hanging open in awe and shock. "Alexia!? Is...it it really you?" he asked in disbelief.

Her smile disappeared into a more solemn expression as she stared impassively at him, her eyes showing no hint of emotion; he now felt small and insignificant under that stare. It reminded of Lord Spencer. 'Alfred, why are you degrading yourself so much? Why do you regard yourself with such low esteem just because I am away?'

He looked away from his sister's stern eyes, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment and unshed tears lurking at the brim of his eyelids. "I am sorry, Alexia, but I can't do this without you. You are the greatest of this family, you are the goddess, the one who shall lead this family into its former glory and beyond. I am nothing, nothing without you, merely a child, a boy without his mother's guiding hand, a priest without a faith to follow. So what can I hope to accomplish, what can I possibly achieve when I don't have you to help me?" he stated mournfully, his expression downhearted.

Alexia continued to stare back at him for a few minutes without any hint of emotion in her gaze, her bright blue eyes cold and stoic, until an affectionate smile spread on her lips, and her gaze softened to one of love and caring. 'Have you forgotten, brother? The Ashford family depends on you as well, since you are my soldier and a faithful member of the Ashford legacy, and you are the only one I can trust to keep my work safe from Umbrella's hands, to make sure that our dreams will soon come true. You ARE destined for great things by my side, you ARE important to me and our dreams, so you mustn't act this way," she explained, still smiling sweetly.

Alfred gazed back at her, the tears now flowing from his eyes and down his cheeks, his lips quivering again. "But without you, I can't-"

Alexia giggled, interrupting what he was about to say with that soft sound he found so alluring. 'Brother, did you see what I said to you just before I went into stasis?' she asked, looking amused.

Alfred thought back to the few moments that they had shared together when she went into stasis, when they placed their hands together on the glass, tears sliding down both of their faces as the water continued to rise in the tank, wrapping Alexia in its cool, flowing embrace. And when the water had reached just under her chin, her entire body submerged under the sloshing fluid, she said something to him, her lips forming words that were directed to him, words he didn't hear through the glass and couldn't be able to read by the motion of her lips. He had once thought over what she had said to him then, what her final words to him had been, but all memories of that incident had been immediately locked away when the grief and pain had started to sink in, engulfing his mind in its venemous grip and his heart in its choking vice.

'I'll always be with you. That is what I said and I shall hold true to that statement. So cast aside your fears and doubts, forsake what holds you back and focus on your duties to our family. Ignore what the minds of the masses may think and concentrate more on what has to be done for our dreams to become realities. Leave behind the past and strife towards our great future that is to come," she ordered, her lips still wearing that entrancing smile he adored beyond all measure.

Alfred looked at Alexia with the same love and affection he had always felt for her, smiling at her gratefully for always being there when he needed comfort and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling a momentary pang of stupidity for thinking that his sister had actually left him. She would always be there for him, even standing before him now, always there to guide when he was done, to encourage him when he was depressed or demoralised and she would never leave, not now or ever. She would always be there for him, always there to guide him, to cast away his fears and remove all doubt from his heart; she was his goddess and he was her soldier, they were an inseparable pair and that was the way it was forever. How he could think that she would leave him was inconceivable!

"I am sorry, Alexia. I know I am weak without you, but I will fight for our family honor. I will continue to help your work, I will always serve you. Nothing shall stand between us and our dreams, I swear it!!" he assured her, ignoring her loud his tone of voice became.

Alexia nodded her head, still wearing her loving and grateful smile. "I know you will, brother, I have always known that. But you must remember, that no matter what happens, I will always be with you. That you can be sure off," she stated reassuringly.

Alfred, feeling his joy and mirth flood through his entire being, overcoming his despair and fears, erasing all doubts and helplessness from his mind, laughed out loud in irrepressable bliss. He spun around his room, dancing to an invisible tune, his laughter echoing throughout the house, causing the staff of the house to cringe and look up at the Master's room in curiousity, wondering what he could be laughing about so much. But Alfred didn't care, he certainly gave nothing towards the rest of the ignorant masses who listened to him below; all he cared about was his dear sister who danced with him and laughed along in their moment of joy, both of them knowing that their dreams would soon become a reality, that they were destined to become better than the ignorant masses that they would enslave and that they will be together forever for as long as time would pass.

_Alexia is supreme!! We are supreme!! Umbrella and everyone else are nothing to us and our legacy!! THE ASHFORD FAMILY IS SUPREME!!_

Unable to cope with the loud volume of his Master's laughter and his growing curiousity towards his strange behaviour, Alfred's secretary crept up to the office door quietly and gently opened it, looking inside to see what was happening to make the young boy laugh so much. What he saw did nothing to satisfy his curiousity, instead increase it, but he decided that it was better to ignore the problem rather than pursue it because he knew that questioning the young Ashford boy on the subject would get him sent to the dreaded infirmary of Dr Ian Stoker.

He went back to his desk and tried to block out his thoughts on the matter by finishing off some of the paperwork that was now piling on his desk, knowing that he had to get them done before the deadline Umbrella had set, but he couldn't get what he saw out of his mind, still unable to figure out what he saw. He had seen Alfred dancing wildly around the room, singing to some tune that only he could hear for a few minutes, seemingly unaware he was being observed and not really giving a damn, until he had quietened down, taking deep breaths and slumping into his chair in exhaustion. The secretary thought that was it but then, he spun the chair and started talking to his reflection, almost as if he was engaging in conversation with someone behind him.

However, that wasn't the strangest thing about it. What was strange about it was the voices that Alfred was talking with. One was his own and the other could only have been his sister's, Alexia...

**Sorry that this took a lot longer than intended. Computer troubles and exams putting on a lot of stress.**

**I hope that everyone is still in character and that this chapter was good enough for you all to read. I had some really bad trouble writing this and I don't know whether it came out right, so please tell me where I have gone wrong so I can edit it better.**

**Also, I hope I have adequatelly explained Alfred's growing sadism and insanity, since they are important parts of his character and the story.**

**Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this far! I really, really appreciate it and I hope that this chapter has turned out alright!**


	35. Chapter 35

Thirty Five

Snow. All that fell over Raccoon City was snow. A continuous and endless fall of pure white bliss that covered the entire Arklay mountain range and the beautiful natural environment of Raccoon Forest, changing the vast wilderness outside of the small suburban town into an extravagant work of natural art, worthy of many famous artists such as Da Vinci or Van Gogh. The civilians of Raccoon City, having celebrated Christmas six days prior, hurried about the streets in preparation for the big day tomorrow, setting up fireworks and parties, inflating balloons, purchasing bottles of champagne and chocolates to celebrate what was to come tomorrow. January 1st 1984, the start of a new year.

The lowest-ranking employees of the Umbrella corporation were more than excited to see the new year come around, all of them waiting patiently with their families, eagerly awaiting the end of one year and the start of the next, to begin a new chapter of their lives for themselves. But in the back of their minds, they were also dreading the new year, loathing the prospect of the changing years because, once the New Year's celebrations and parties had passed, they would be ordered back to the facilities to continue their work, to keep the vast amount of Umbrella's laboratories running efficiently and to create more of the nightmarish B.O.Ws that haunted their sleep with the vicious toxic substance which was known as the Tyrant-Virus. And despite how much they loathed returning to work, they knew there was no choice in the matter since, if they refused to return to work, Spencer would make sure that they would lose either their jobs or their lives for any outward insubordination; he had the power to do so and was by no means afraid to use it.

However, even during the absence of several of their staff members for the winter season, the numerous facilities that Umbrella owned across the globe continued to function with the utmost efficiency and productivity, under the careful leadership and guidance of the highest-ranking members that stayed behind to continue their work, both legal and illegal, either by choice or under orders from Spencer. The Arklay facilities beneath the Spencer Estate were no exception to this, although it suffered a very hectic few months and had come quite closer to disarray ever since the arrival of Alexia Ashford and the harsh attitude change of William Birkin; but the facility itself had finally managed to resolve all of its problems and was back on track once more in progressing with the research on the Tyrant-Virus.

Currently, it was the site of very minuscule activities from its staff, due to the fact that most of the laboratories were shut down for the time being as the facility gradually built itself up again from how it had fallen over the last year. The head technicians inspected and evaluated all the current technology that the facility possessed, taking great scrutiny and care in ensuring that there was no damage or disrepair to the various machinery and electronics that were installed throughout the rooms. The Security Chiefs busied themselves in the facility by conducting an vast inventory of the supplies in the entire mansion, scouring through the individual kitchens, armories and storage rooms, thoroughly cataloguing all the chemicals, ammunition and food right down to final digit on the incredibly long list that they had been given. The heliport staff had their hands full in cleaning away the snow and ice that had built up on the tarmac landing pad, some using the large shovels they had to dig away the white fluff that fell from the sky whilst others used the small pick-axes that they had to break the icy puddles that were frozen on the pad, so as to make sure that there wouldn't be any trouble for oncoming helicopters to land or any danger for the passengers disembarking the vehicles.

The scientists, or what were left of them, concerned themselves now with what little they could do with their research, namely checking up on the specimens in stasis to ensure that they hadn't died in their absence and writing up the many reports that they needed to complete for the board. Every scientist, even though they loathed it so much, were currently stuck behind their desks with a pen in their hand and a mountain of papers in front of them on their desks, forced to write out and sign every scrap of paper for the board to review over once they had been sent off.

Inside his small office on the second floor of the mansion, Albert Wesker busied himself in the large amounts of papers that were stacked on his desk, the pen in his hand flowing across the paper with quick yet calm strokes, his eyes that were hidden behind his sunglasses never once leaving the paper he wrote on, his attention fully focused on the task he had been given to do. He had spent the past few hours of the day working through all of the reports and the reams of information that the absent staff members had piled on his shoulders for him to sort through, checking over every detail to ensure that nothing was overlooked and he scrutinized it carefully before he placed it in the 'out' bin for it to be taken away and sent off to the board, on time as per usual.

Once his pen made the final stroke in the last sentence needed and he signed his name neatly on the bottom of the page, he placed it on top of the pile in the out bin, pushed back from his chair and decided to take a glance out the window of his office, watching the snow fall to the ground outside behind his dark sunglasses, seeming to find some sort of peace in doing so as his mind began to reminisce over the past few years of his life. It was the sixth winter in his career as the head researcher of the Umbrella Corporation's Arklay laboratories, six years gone by that he had worked on the Tyrant-Virus after the 'retirement' of his former mentor, the late Dr Marcus, six years in serving under Umbrella's hierarchy and following the orders that were passed down to him by Lord Oswell E. Spencer, six years of research progress and new discoveries that he himself had made with the deadly biological weapon that the vast pharmaceutical corporation possessed, keeping his own opinions about the project to himself whilst he slaved to please the tyrannical leader of the global conglomerate.

Although, during the last two years, things had been rather hectic for him and the rest of the Arklay facility's staff, what with Birkin's envious temper, his increased work-speed and the utter devastation of most of their T-Virus research that they had accomplished, mainly through the death of many specimens and the staff's inability to keep up with Birkin's high demands and insane workpace. It was blatantly noticeable to everyone in the facility that ever since the arrival of Miss Alexia Ashford, all the work in the Arklay laboratories had began to suffer and the entire mansion staff had to spend all of their work time practically trying to keep up with Birkin's work pace whilst avoiding the bitter tongue of his harsh temper, rushing around the laboratories with what little energy they had in order to acquire all the supplies that they needed to keep their specimens alive and keep Birkin satisfied to continue his work. However, they still could not keep up with the jealous scientist's work pace and many of their specimens died before they could have a chance to save them (save for the 'female' specimen, somehow immortal throughout the whole Hell she was forced to trek through), thus their research was barely able to make any progress whatsoever.

_But that has now come to an end and we can finally make some real progress in our work. Strange that it had to happen this way, though._

He turned back from the window and walked towards his desk, sliding open one of the drawers, pulling out a brown manila envelope tucked away at the bottom, flipping open the top and removing the small sheet of paper placed neatly inside it. He had already read through the report inside the envelope several times over the past few days, as Birkin and the other high-ranking members of the Arkaly labs had done also, already fully aware of what was printed on the report that had been handed to him a week ago and how the other members had reacted to it, able to recall, but he just couldn't shake what the report proclaimed to him out of his mind, his gut instincts telling him that there was an irregularity involved in the report, somewhere hidden between the lines. It was a short report and announcement from the members of the board informing all of Umbrella's personnel of a tragic accident that had occurred in the Antarctica facility, resulting in the death of one of their greatest scientists, Alexia Ashford.

Apparently, she had entered a dangerous phase in her research project on a virus that she herself had created, code-named the Tyrant-Veronica virus, and a fire had broken out in the laboratory she was working in, completely engulfing the lower levels of her laboratory in flames and forcing Umbrella to seal off that level from the rest of the facility, in order to prevent the fire from spreading. After the sprinklers had put out the fire, an investigation team had been ordered by Umbrella's executive board to commence a thorough examination of the fire damage in order to assess the overall destruction of the level and to acquire any feasible data on her work, but Alfred Ashford himself had strictly prohibited the lower levels of the facility to be reopened under any circumstances and thus they were barely able to recover anything that was even remotely linked to the T-Veronica research. When the report had arrived at the Arklay facility, the entire research staff had begun to mourn the loss of Alexia Ashford, all of them feeling downhearted or depressed that they had lost such a fine example of natural genius in the corporation and that their most idolized role model was now dead, confirming Wesker's previous thoughts about how the elderly researchers treated the child scientist with such favor and respect only because she was the member of a legendary family, especially when her own family had been one of the three founders of the pharmaceutical corporation she had worked for.

Wesker had even started to hear wild rumors and conspiracy theories spread about by the Arklay staff a few days after the report had arrived, all of them claiming that Alexia Ashford had injected herself with her own virus due to lack of a suitable specimen and mutated into a hideous monster, going on a rampage and destroying her laboratory in her rage, the fires quickly incinerating her before she even had a chance to escape, but he just laughed at that thought, finding it somehow ironically amusing that they, the conspirators themselves, could go around mouthing off ridiculous theories and mere speculations like the simple nutcase that randomly popped up on the Internet. In Wesker's opinion, Alexia Ashford had merely died from a lack of focus in her work, probably down to her father's death a year before in that construction incident, and had made a simple yet fatal error in her work due to her grief, resulting in the destruction of herself and her work in the fires that spread through her labs; after all, working at the tender age of 12 was very dangerous for anyone, especially in this line of work with Umbrella's inner-machinations, no matter how intelligent or talented that person may be. In addition, working with an emotional trauma, such as the death of a loved one, caused people to make mistakes in whatever they did; in Alexia's case, it had been a very lethal mistake.

So now, upon her death, all of her properties and research had been handed down to the last of her living blood-relatives, namely her twin brother and the newly-elected Master of the Ashford legacy, Alfred. But Wesker, not to mention everyone else in Umbrella, didn't really expect much success or contributions on the project to be made from him and doubted that he could continue Alexia's own T-Veronica project, since he wasn't exactly as 'talented' as Alexia, so to speak. In conclusion, since the deaths of Alexia and Alexander Ashford, the proud legacy of the Ashford family had finally begun to wither away and fade into the unforgiving weaves of time, to be remembered only as a legend just as Wesker had predicted.

_Either way, this is the turning point in our work that we have been waiting for. Lets just hope that we can now get everything up and running again._

Needless to say, on Wesker's part, it was blatantly obvious that Alexia's death had changed William Birkin for the better, or rather reset his personality back to what it was previously, to be more accurate. The death of his 'rival' had been a great psychological change to Birkin, since it allowed him to rebuild his shattered award as the highest-ranking employee ever to be brought into Umbrella's inner-machinations at the tender age of fifteen, and to regain the respect and admiration of the entire research staff in the Arklay laboratories, which he had previously been getting beforehand. Wesker had known above everyone else that, despite what the others saw or thought of Birkin, the praise and idolization he received from the research staff did very much to boost his self-confidence and pride in his work, thus allowing him to be more and more successful towards their current progress on the T-Virus project. Thus, with Alexia Ashford dead, both Wesker and Birkin knew full well that they were now the two most talented scientists the corporation possessed and there was no one else who exhibited any greater potential than them.

However, unlike everyone else, Wesker noticed that Birkin had seemed to calm down a bit about the Alexia Ashford issue a few years before, not to a large extent but it was definitely there to see that he had somehow became minutely less volatile over the issue. For some reason, Birkin had taken the research staff's constant admiration and praise of the Ashford child a little better than he usually did, finally having started to grow up more from his childish antics and act a bit more mature than he normally did with the other staff members, although he would still lash out and yell at people if he got too irritated or annoyed with them and their appraisal of the Ashford girl. It was almost as if someone had managed to force some sense into his mind and got him to snap out of his immature mood-swings so he could focus more on the most important issue of their careers in Umbrella, namely their work with the T-Virus.

_Maybe it could have something to do with that new assistant he has brought on?_

That was another development over the past months that Wesker found exceedingly strange because the prospect of William Birkin, the lone scientist of the Umbrella corporation, actually hiring a new assistant personally to work with him on the T-Virus research was an action that he had never expected to happen. After all, it was well known by everyone that William Birkin was a man with a self-inflated ego and an overall contempt for the other staff members, constantly going off into a temperament at the slightest error or mistake made in the T-Virus project, openly expressing his discontent and irritance towards the rest of the facility's employees, thus he mainly preferred to work on his own with the T-Virus research, following his own endeavours and tasks, unless Spencer ordered otherwise, without having to ask assistance of anyone, except for Wesker occasionally.

Yet however, after firing his previous assistant due to an innocuous comment about Alexia Ashford and himself, Birkin had hired another assistant himself to work with him on the T-Virus and had introduced her to Wesker a few weeks after her promotion was written out and filed to Umbrella's executive board for them to review, before he assigned her some work to complete and the board had accepted the proposal, making it official that Annette Jenkins was his new assistant. Wesker himself had done some background checks on Annette, in order to ascertain what she was like and what she had done thus far for the corporation, but more so to soothe his curiousity on why Birkin had hired her in the first place.

From what her personal file had told him, it seemed that she was a suitable assistant to work with Birkin. She had some quite excellent accomplishments under her name from her high school and university, having earned a PhD in Biology and Biochemistry from the State University of New York Upstate Medical University at the age of 15, graduating with full honors, many of her teachers and lecturers marking her down as an exceptional student. And her current achievements with Umbrella were certainly notable, having passed all of Umbrella's admission tests at the Arizona Training Facility in just a year and assigned to work in the Arklay laboratories as a Level 3 T-Virus researcher. So, Wesker found nothing wrong with her in the reports, except for that incident with the Hunter dying in its stasis tank but that was mainly down to Birkin's increased work pace and the entire facility's inability to keep up with him, and when both had met face-to-face, he saw nothing wrong with the woman herself, hence he allowed Birkin and Miss Jenkins to work together, deciding it was none of his business who Birkin hired as his assistant, so long as he stayed focused on their work for Spencer.

_That might be slightly troublesome. Those two seem to be paying a bit more attention to each other than their work._

When Birkin and Annette had started working together, they seemed to function as a good team, more so than when Birkin and Wesker had worked together under the late James Marcus' tutelage in the Training Facility, both of them managing to co-operate with each other without any complaints or arguments, providing many helpful benefits in getting the Arklay facilities back on track and uncovering new information on the Tyrant-Virus that the corporation could use in its research. To everyone in the Arklay laboratories, it looked like Jenkins and Birkin were the perfect team to work on the T-Virus, or that's what everyone started to believe when Spencer had complimented them both on one of his scarce visits to the mansion and bestowed on them full command of the facilities to them, even over Wesker, but he didn't particularly care; Birkin could have his power over the Arklay labs, since he had other issues to be concerned or interested about.

One example he knew of was the strange relationship that Annette and Birkin had adopted with each other, something that seem to stem beyond the professional teamwork of work colleagues. Unlike the others, Wesker noticed that Birkin was acting quite peculiar around Miss Jenkins, constantly looking up from his work to gaze at her, his eyes seeming to bright up with a sort of longing-admiration for her, distracting himself from his work to study her in some way and to follow whatever idea she put forward to him. He would also engage himself in conversation with her during the work-breaks but it didn't have anything to do with the T-Virus research; it was as if William Birkin was beginning to act like a normal, average, everyday human being around Annette Jenkins, forsaking his work for just those few minutes of lunch or rest to engage her in a simple chat about anything he found interesting. He even listened intently to whatever she had to say and made no move to interject or interrupt, like he normally did when speaking with the other staff members.

And it wasn't just one way for their relationship. Annette Jenkins did the exact same things around Birkin as he did around her; staring at him admiringly, distracting herself from what task she was doing to gaze at him in some form of adoration that lit fiercely in her eyes, always eager to perform whatever task was handed to her by Birkin and intensely focused on what she was doing to get it completed fully. During the breaks, she would follow along in the conversations between herself and Birkin, listening intently to whatever he had to say that didn't even concern their ultra-sensitive research or the deadly T-Virus they worked with, just chatting with him about their own personal lifestyles and interests, making no move to interrupt what he was saying or make any move to leave out of fear of the man, unlike the rest of the staff who were terrified of Birkin's temper.

Yet, the strangest thing he could see about their relationship was that they acted like ordinary, sociable and mundane human beings. He would often notice them laughing with each other about some joke or humerous subject that they were talking with each other about; that alone was strange enough because, for as long as he and Birkin had been partners, Wesker knew how much Birkin despised laughter and merriment in the laboratories under his jurisdiction, claiming that it all just got in the way of valuable work time that could be spent on benefiting their T-Virus research. But everytime Wesker saw Birkin and Jenkins together, the two of them would be laughing out loud in merriment or amusement, paying no heed to the way they looked to the other staff members or that they were making fools of themselves; they just didn't seem to care when they had each other's company and were having a good time together.

And even more surprising was the fact that, on several occasions, most of them easy for Wesker to recall, whenever Jenkins and Birkin caught each other's stares, they would simpy gaze at each other for a few minutes, as if conveying a secret telepathic message between themselves, and then they would hurriedly turn away, focusing their attention back onto their work, their faces bright red with embarrassment. Wesker had seen that particular form of expression on people before during his college and university years, when he had briefly noticed several students exchanging discreet glances at each other in the classes, a sure sign of a high-school crush, except now it was on two distinguished Umbrella scientists who he worked with in the Arklay laboratories.

_Well, I'll be damned. William Birkin, the ruthless inhuman brainiac of Umbrella's T-Virus project has taken a fancy to his new research._

A ghost of a smile fluttered on Wesker's lips briefly, actually finding it quite amusing that Birkin was beginning to adopt one of the 'distracting' human emotions he found so unagreeable with when he had never even so much as glanced at a woman, let alone talk with them, but it soon disappeared when his office door slammed open and William Birkin himself stepped through in a hurry, several folders and stacks of paper precariously balanced in his thin arms, a sloshing cup of coffee placed dangerously on top, coming close to spilling over. He stumbled over to Wesker's desk, grunting with exertion as he carefully moved to the table whilst holding up the stacks of paper, letting the door slide shut behind him, and slammed the stacks down on the table once he got close enough, slumping into the spare chair in exhaustion, taking deep breaths and wiping his forehead with his lab coat sleeve.

"Man, carrying these files of folders up from the labs to your office is tiring, to say the least," Birkin claimed, reaching up for his cup of coffee.

Wesker took a folder from the top of the file and opened it up, reading through the first report that came to sight. "Is this everything?" he asked sternly.

Birkin took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "Yeah. Everything on all of our research, every piece of data on every experiment, all of the paperwork, the forms, the requests, the reports from each and all of the laboratories. It's all there, signed and dated, for it to be shipped to Spencer and have him look over," he informed Wesker, placing his cup down on Wesker's desk.

Wesker nodded and placed the file back on the stack, turning to face Birkin. "Good work. At least now, we have all of our research back on track and we can keep Spencer of our backs momentarily with these pile of paperwork he will now have to sift through," he stated.

Birkin nodded again, taking another sip of his coffee. "Of course. We have had the Hunter project restarted and have already produced six suitable B.O.Ws for the corporation to use; our staff have acquired all the supplies we need to keep them alive and our equipment has all been repaired. The Arklay labs are finally up and running again, or as best as they can be ever since...'she' passed away," he claimed, groaning slightly through clenched teeth at the mention of the word 'she'.

Wesker knew who he was referring to very well when he heard that stretched 'she', since Birkin couldn't say her name himself after everything she had supposedly put him through, him seeming to find it something of a blasphemous curse that his mind could not even think about or his mouth even mutter under his breath. Although Alexia Ashford was now dead and all of Umbrella's attention had switched over to him, marking William Birkin as the man with the greatest potential, everyone in the Arklay facilities still knew fully well that talking about Miss Ashford was still a rather taboo subject to be mentioned, especially with Birkin around.

_No one can talk about anything remotely involving Alexia, even me and Miss Jenkins. It's part of the newly-adopted 'rule' that Birkin has now put forward._

Wesker cleared his throat roughly to catch Birkin's attention, deciding that he would have to ask this question sooner or later, yet he had a clear idea of how the envy scientist was going to reply. "Birkin, a thought has occurred to me. Why don't we send a partition to Spencer in request for the T-Veronica?" he asked bluntly.

Birkin almost choked on his coffee as his eyes widened in surprise and he slammed back down on the desk, coughing harshly. "What...do...you...mean?" he questioned, struggling to get the words out between coughs.

Wesker simply leaned back in his chair and looked Birkin full in the face, his expression as stoic as ever and his cold eyes ever-hidden behind his sunglasses. "I have been thinking over the matter a lot in my free time and I am believe that we should carry on with Alexia's research on the T-Veronica. After all, we are currently making no new progress or discoveries with the T-Virus, so we should really focus on something a lot more productive, like the T-Veronica, since no one but Alexia Ashford has studied it and we have no idea how much potential it could have for our own biological research," he explained, phrasing his words delicately to suit Birkin's thought pattern.

But Birkin was not a man that could be placated when angered or argued with about something he severely disagreed with. "Absolutely not," he said forcefully, his tone making no room for argument. "We don't need to use her work or anything involving her in our own research; after all, ever since she had arrived, our own work has plummeted and we have only managed to get back on track, thus we shouldn't do anything to bring back the degradation of this facility, or our own endeavors. We can do just fine without the T-Veronica virus and I sure as Hell will not stand to have any aspect of her own research interfere with MINE!" he exclaimed angrily, his cheeks flushing bright red, his lips pulled back from clenched teeth and his hands balled up into fists.

Wesker stared back impassively at Birkin, his expression still calm and calculating as it usually was, straightening his sunglasses on the bridge before he picked up another folder from the file and opened it up, busying himself in reading the contents.

"Very well. It is your choice, Birkin. I was merely voicing an opinion," he responded stoically, flipping over to the next page.

Casting his eyes up briefly behind his sunglasses to gaze at Birkin, he saw the scientist looked momentarily stunned, probably surprised that he had managed to win in an argument against Wesker, before his expression grew solemn and he busied himself in a report he was currently checking over.

"That's alright, Wesker, I am not blaming you for making suggestions. But I do not wish to have any of Alexia's work shadowing my own, especially if it is not particularly needed," he claimed, taking another sip of what was left of his coffee.

Wesker nodded absently, his eyes intently reading the report in his hands, but his mind wasn't registering what the words were saying, since it was busy forming up thorough plans on the subject of Alexia Ashford's T-Veronica virus strain. He knew there was no point in arguing with Birkin over the subject, considering how stubborn and pig-headed he could be over his own work or those of others, and that there was no one in the world who could force William Birkin to change his mind, excluding Spencer and maybe Annette Jenkins now. And as much as the T-Veronica virus itself proved interesting to him, he was aware that he now had no chance of acquiring a sample of the virus from Spencer without Birkin's help and that there probably weren't any samples still left in existence after the accident that had killed Alexia Ashford and demolished most of her lab.

_I guess my analysis of T-Veronica will have to be postponed. No matter. There is an even bigger matter that I should think over on, namely Lord Oswell E. Spencer._

He pushed back on his chair and stood up, causing Birkin to cast his eyes from his report up to Wesker, the lukewarm coffee cup still held in his hand near his lips.

"I think I'll get some fresh air and stretch my legs a little. Being cooped up in this mansion all day can drive one mad and it is quite a beautiful day outside," he said, his tone emotionless and calm.

Birkin took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup back down on the desk, still looking at Wesker's face. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll finish up here with what's left."

Wesker nodded curtly at his friend and walked around his desk to the door at a brisk pace, straightening his sunglasses over his eyes, tucking his hands in his black coats pockets. As he reached out and took hold of the golden knob, he glanced back at Birkin, his cold, cobalt eyes staring at him from behind the dark polaroid lenses.

"How is Miss Jenkins?" he asked out of the blue.

Birkin jumped slightly at the question and snapped his head around to look at Wesker, red beginning to form on his pale cheeks. "Why do you want to know?" he questioned curiously.

Wesker shrugged his shoulders. "No reason. Just asking you a simple question," he retorted.

Birkin stared at Wesker unwavering for a few minutes before he turned away and went back to the report he was reading through. "She's fine. I had her check over the new Hunters for me and bring back a report on their condition for me to look over," he said, answering Wesker's question.

Wesker's face broke out into a small grin. "Is it wise to let her look after the Hunters after she had killed one of them?" he quipped, chuckling to himself.

Birkin looked over his shoulder at Wesker, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't be too insulting to her. She is one of the best talent I have seen in this entire facility and she is perfectly capable to handle the specimens," he stated defensively.

Wesker chuckled again. "Aren't you the knight in shining armour," he joked, opening the door and stepping outside.

He heard a brief scoff from Birkin before he gently shut the door and took off down the hallway at a measured walk, heading towards the main hall. He politely nodded at the staff who greeted him or the guards who saluted as he passed them by, stepping through the single door at the end of the hall onto the grand staircase. He walked down the stairs of the hall and across the bright-red carpet up to the large oaken doors at the front, the two guards beside them stood rigidly at attention with their hands keeping a tight hold of their weapons and their eyes fixed rigidly on the wall in front of them.

"I am going for a stroll in the woods," he stated authoritatively.

The guards, knowing that Wesker usually went for a stroll in the woods, nodded and hastily opened the doors, allowing the cold winter air to blow in through the doorway, causing small snowflakes to flow through into the hall and Wesker's trench coat to flap slightly in the wind. Giving the guards not another glance, he stepped through the door out onto the porch of the mansion and into the front courtyard, the doors slamming shut behind him. The sight outside was the same as it was from his office window; snow covered everything around him in a white blanket, the nearby trees and fields covered in unending snow that continuously fell from dark clouds above. Wesker slowly took off his sunglasses and allowed his eyes to see the world unhindered, his cold blue eyes staring out into the snowfall and the forested horizon beyond, taking in the sight through his own vision and perception without any blockage by the sunglasses.

_A fine sight to be sure. I can see how Raccoon City can claim to be so peaceful._

He stared out at the scene impassively, silently admiring the luscious natural beauty he saw but he soon slowly stepped off the porch onto the snow covered path and proceeded forward into the woods along the small dirt road a few yards away. He spent the next hour wandering along the path, through the woods in silence, glancing around at the huge trees that towered over him and the small wildflowers that peeked through the snow like weeds in a white tulip garden, undisturbed by any form of life, aside from the man who walked along the trail in silence.

But whilst his body and eyes busied themselves with walking around the vast Raccoon Forest, his mind was off on another train of thought about the powerful and enigmatic leader of Umbrella, Lord Spencer, or mainly on his hidden motives behind his recently bizarre behaviour, to be more specific.

When he had first visited the Umbrella laboratories around the Arklay mountain region, he was briefly impressed by how intelligent Spencer had been in having the numerous facilities he owned constructed in the dense forest area around the city and up in the mountains where no one could reach them except only by helicopter, effectively isolating the laboratories from the rest of the world. If this had been a normal biological weapon they were dealing with in their work, he would have been satisfied of the facilities' safety, since the isolation and lack of nearby human activity were extremely important when choosing a site for Umbrella's illegal activities, especially in consideration of a possible biohazard outbreak. But, with something as complex and powerful as the Tyrant-Virus, those two factors were no longer in effect because the virus itself (which Wesker knew full well about from his research and experiments) didn't just infect human beings; it had the well-known potential of infecting more than just one type of living organism.

But this problem was not only limited to the T-Virus because it was known that similar circumstances would occur with other powerful and deadly viruses, since many species of animals could be infected whilst others would be spared. Influenza, commonly known as the flu virus, was a perfect example of a cross-species infection. It could not only infect humans, but birds, pigs, horses and even sea lions; however, it complicates matters of vaccination or prevention due to the fact that not all members of the same family are infected and each host is infected differently via the virus' multiple variants, so it was impossible to determine who or what would be infected next.

The T-Virus itself was a very different story because it was highly adaptable, powerfully infectious and incredibly fast in that it could infect any living thing on the planet, sparing no living things in an outbreak, thus if a cure was developed soon enough by Umbrella, they could easily treat the infected just after the virus passes into their bodies. But, naturally, the real problem wasn't the ability to treat the virus, it was the virus' extreme mutagenic properties that allowed it to spread quickly from host to host and mutated them into the vicious monstrosities that Wesker had seen since the beginning of his career at Umbrella.

_Then why are we here? Why did Spencer choose this location when he knows how deadly and infectious the T-Virus is? Why did he place the lab here?_

During his numerous strolls in the forest, Wesker had always considered the possible dangers of secondary infection by the virus if there ever was an outbreak in the laboratories and if it managed to escape to the woods, and always suspected Spencer's motives in choosing the specific location in the forest to build his estate and its vast labs beneath. So, when Alexia Ashford had arrived and the labs had fallen to disarray under Birkin's behavioral change, Wesker had done his own research in Umbrella's Archives and looked over their previous experiments about the virus' infection rate in secondary-infected hosts during an outbreak.

What he found did little to ease his fears or suspicions on the matter. As he knew already, the virus could infect any creature in all of the animal kingdoms, from mammals to amphibians, from reptiles to fish, from birds to plants, nothing was neither spared nor totally immune to the virus. And considering how many species co-existed in the Raccoon Forest, the possibility of a complete outbreak was incredibly high if the virus were to escape and infect a new host in the vast forested area nearby, the premordial soup for its reproduction and infection of living things. But that all led to another important question that needed to be answered, one that was necessary to know if they had to stop the outbreak from spreading further until it was discovered.

_If the virus could escape, how far will it spread in a matter of hours?_

And to answer that question, one had to look around the environment that their facility was built in, to ascertain how many organisms habitated the exterior area and how fast the virus could infect them if it escaped. Yet from looking at the forest the Spencer Estate was built in, he imagined the virus would probably reach the city in a matter of days, if not hours. The entire forest housed too many potential T-infected hosts that could spread the infection during an outbreak. For example, there were the many insects that crawled and skittered amongst the bushes and trees around him; he knew that the T-Virus didn't yield any promise in them, only promoting their growth and aggression, but Umbrella had been so busy trying to develop B.O.Ws out of the tiny creatures, they failed to take into account that insects, especially spiders and ants, could reproduce in literally thousands of numbers. Plants were another danger that Umbrella overlooked, since all it did in plants was mutate them to incredible heights, grew them longer appendages and made them more aggressive, but they could reproduce in thousands of numbers as well and even spread the infection farther than other hosts because plants make pollen and, if T-infected pollen is taken up by a breeze and blown into a nearby human settlement...the results speak for themselves.

Thus, when the thought had occurred to him, it made perfect logical sense and careful reasoning that Alexander Ashford had constructed his own laboratories in the Antarctica's frozen wastelands, since it wasn't the kind of place any person would normally visit for a small journey, could only be reached by helicopter and (most importantly) no other animal or plant life could be found for miles. Where as in contrast, the Spencer Estate facilities were too dangerous in the off-chance of the T-Virus escaping and an outbreak beginning to spread throughout the woods. Somehow, as terrible as it seemed, Wesker couldn't shake the feeling that the reason the Arklay facilities were constructed were for the purpose of spreading the virus.

_No. It couldn't be. Could it? Is that what this is about? And if it is true, then...what are you up to Spencer?_

Ever since he had been promoted to work as Head Researcher for Umbrella's Arklay facilities and had started researching the Tyrant-Virus for the corporation, Wesker had often wondered about Spencer's true motives for his continual funding and support for the project. At first, Wesker had naturally thought that it had been down to corporate and financial reasons, namely for Umbrella to sell the T-Virus off to several unstable and dysfunctional countries for hefty prices, thereby placing them at the top of the leading dealers in biological weapons. However, that opinion had soon been shattered when Spencer went into an uproar at Wesker over the fact he claimed that the T-Virus could only kill off 90 of population and nothing they did would be able to make the virus kill off the rest of the population.

But now, after thinking over why the laboratories had been constructed in the middle of a forest, the only logical thought about it that occurred to him was that Spencer had built the labs in the woods in order to spread the virus, for reasons Wesker had yet to determine. Normally, with such an important issue now brought to his attention, he would have discussed it between Birkin since he was smart enough to at least know when to keep his mouth shut and how to stay on Spencer's good side, unlike the other staff members, but that was no longer a good idea, considering that he was back to focusing on his work and telling him would be meaningless, so he had no choice but to work through it alone. And if he were to acquire the information he needed about Spencer's motives, he would soon have to relocate himself to a new position that would allow him to get a hold of the information.

_It appears that the end of my career as a researcher is drawing ever so closer._

Wesker had known for a couple of months now that he was reaching the final part of his limitations in his position as an Umbrella scientist, fully aware that he had begun to lose his focus on the research and he would need to relocate himself to a better position if he wished to stay in Umbrella. He had first caught sign of his research career ending when the Arklay facilities had fallen to disarray after Alexia's arrival and Birkin had started to act irrationally, when he himself failed to keep with Birkin's hectic work pace and impossible demands and he could find no way to either snap Birkin out of his immature jealously or to get the labs running again, resulting in a serious delay in the T-Virus research and the death of several specimens. Thus, he would was now left with the only option of a career move to find a new position in Umbrella in order for him to acquire the information on Spencer and prove to still be of some use to the corporation that they wouldn't decide to 'retire' him, so he felt no love loss in having to throw his previous career away, since it was a necessity.

But he knew that he also had to tread slowly and lightly if he was to stay on Spencer's good side, so that no suspicion would be cast on him. It was abundantly clear to everyone that Spencer was in no way ignorant or blind to what the people beneath him were up to or how much power and influence he had over every decision made by the corporation, and that he would have no intention of using it if he deemed it necessary. Wesker himself, having been a part of it under orders, knew of the perfect example of Spencer's immense power over Umbrella and how he would use it if he believed it to be the best of course of action, of what would happen if Spencer had someone under his suspicions and decided on giving them an early 'retirement' in response, an example named James Marcus. And if he moved too quickly, Wesker knew that he would be joining Marcus where ever he was at the moment soon enough; Spencer didn't get far in his career by being stupid and if he so much as caught a hint of his activities, he certainly would get suspicious and have Wesker monitored more closely.

_I guess my career as a researcher is still in effect for the time being, if only to please the old man._

Reaching near enough the end of the trail, Wesker turned around and proceeded back towards the mansion, his mind already coming up with a plan for him to use in the future as he placed his sunglasses back over his eyes, straightening them on the bridge of his nose. He would have to continue his career as a researcher on the T-Virus in order to please Spencer and his executive board whilst ensuring he didn't draw attention to his plans, at least until he found a good enough reason to excuse his sudden career change to the board, so that Spencer wouldn't become too suspicious and believe that Wesker was gunning for his position, and that he would have to be removed from the corporation's employment. But if he made it seem like it was 'business as usual' and continued to portray his loyalty to Umbrella, he doubted that Spencer would step in because the old man wanted the research to continue unhindered and for all of Umbrella's facilities to achieve results or create better BOWs for him to use in his ambitions.

_We'll have to keep the Hunters alive for the board to examine them in their visit and decide on what to do with them. In the meantime, we had better look over all of our T-Virus research and discuss our next course of action on what to do, especially about Lisa._

At the very thought of Lisa, the 'very first human Progenitor-host', Wesker stopped abruptly in his tracks and stood rigidly in place, his mind focused on the hideous young woman that Spencer had showed to him and Birkin at the start of their career. Lisa, the immortal one, the girl who wouldn't die, the ghost of the Spencer mansion, as she had been named by the staff; he was actually surprised at himself that he still remembered her after all the happenings that had recently occurred for them over the past couples of years, since no one else did. During the time that the labs had fell into disarray, Lisa had been the only specimen in the entire facility who had been able to survive the Hell that Birkin's harsh temper and jealous demeanor had created, enduring whatever punishment or experiment put onto her by Birkin, still surviving as she normally did despite all the pain and agony she must have been put through. However, the staff had soon forgotten about her after a couple of weeks and had deemed her a failure since they couldn't get any useful data or information out of her, so she was now merely sealed up in her room beneath the mansion and left to rot, wishing for the peaceful release of death with whatever was left of her human mind.

_Maybe sometime soon, we'll be able to acquire something useful out of her, but for now, she'll just have to stay in her cell until we can find a use for her._

"Mr Wesker!!" someone called out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He looked up sharply to see one of the guards dashing up to him from the mansion, his silhoutte soon becoming recognisable as he got closer. "I'm here," he responded calmly, walking up closer towards the guard.

The guard soon came to a stop in front of Wesker, clasping his hands over his knees and took several deep panting breaths to gain back some much-needed oxygen from his run out into the woods, before he stood up straight and offered a brief salute to Wesker. "I have a message from Dr Birkin, sir," he stated.

Wesker straightened his sunglasses and nodded his head, inclining the soldier to continue.

"He is currently on the phone with Lord Spencer, sir. He specifically asked to speak with you about an urgent matter of a sorts. Dr Birkin needs you back at the mansion immediately," he explained.

Wesker suppressed an oncoming groan at the thought of speaking with Spencer, knowing fully that it would just be about how the research was going and when they would make new progress on the T-Virus, as it had always been ever since Wesker had been put in charge and the Arklay laboratories had fallen to Hell. Nowadays, in the Spencer Estate labs, the chain-of-command in the facilities rested with Wesker being at the top as the man in charge, thus forced to take all the workloads and burdens that were placed on him, including the responsibilities in maintaining a stable and fully-functioning facility that produced effective results on Umbrella's T-Virus project, in addition to the consequences that would come with failure.

_Since Spencer now galavants off with his club house at the main HQ, I am left with the refuse he neglects at his own estate and held responsible for any disasters. As the saying goes 'Shit rolls downhill'._

At that moment, whatever sane and rational part of his mind which remained begged him to do the most sensible that any 'normal' person would; pack up everything and leave it all behind. But he knew that doing such would be suicidal and insane, so he merely nodded his head at the guard, stepping past him at a brisk pace, the guard trailing behind him as he proceeded back to the mansion, to the place he was now stuck in for the remainder of his career under the command of the ruthless man he was about to discuss with, since he had no choice but to do so...

"I am not very patient, Birkin. I have asked to speak with Wesker and you are constantly delaying me. Now, where is he?" the cold, dark voice of Lord Spencer asked through the phone.

Birkin cringed at the empty tone coming through the phone, silently begging in the back of his mind for Wesker to hurry back and get on the phone so he wouldn't have to bear speaking with Spencer anymore. Ever since he had met Lord Oswell E. Spencer face-to-face, he had always loathed and feared talking with the man because being in his presence made Birkin feel small and diminutive, the immense power that Spencer held casting him into deep darkness, making him feel like the rest of the staff probably felt, insignificant and expendable as the various insects or lab specimens that were brought to him to be infected with the T-Virus as part of their research experiments.

Which, in reality, he was like all the others, expendable and insignificant, despite his exemplary work for Spencer and the Umbrella corporation, since that was the way Spencer treated all his employees; Dr James Marcus, his former mentor and the original creator of the Progenitor and the Tyrant-Virus, was a perfect example of that thought. He had now began to understand, ever since meeting Spencer after his promotion to head researcher in the Arklay labs, why his former tutor Dr Marcus had plunged over the deep end of insanity and committed those crimes that had got him killed off by Umbrella. With a man as ruthless and diligent as Spencer looming over one's shoulder, one could totally agree with the reasons why Marcus had done what he had done in his work, about how he had succumbed to his paranoia and performed his dooming actions that brought about his untimely assassination.

_Under orders from Spencer himself and by your very own hands. You are responsible as well for Marcus' death as much as Spencer and Wesker are,_ his conscious proclaimed scornfully.

Birkin felt his hands start to tremble and his forehead break out into a cold sweat as that dreadful memory surfaced from his past to the front of his mind, the memory of that horrible day, of standing there in smug triumphant delight and mirth as he watched the soldiers charge into Marcus' lab with murderous intent, smirking slightly as he heard the rapid clitter-clatter noise of machine gun fire and Marcus' startled groans through the open door, and when both he and Wesker had stood over Marcus' shattered body, both of them smiling widely and mocking him as he struggled to gasp out his last breathes through the blood that spilled from his cracked lips onto the floor.

But the most terrifying aspect of that memory, for Birkin at least, was the emotions he felt at that moment, at that single point when he had watched his mentor stare up at him with angry and horrified eyes to see both of his protegee students leering back at him in a dark, terrible joy, mocking him by saying he had lost everything, that his research was now their's to use and that Spencer had defeated him. Yet, the scariest moment for Birkin in that entire affair was when he had coldly informed Marcus that he was the next in line for his work and had laughed out loud at him, a last mark of mockery to accompany his tutor on his descent to Hell, and had felt the immense sense of enjoyment and victory, to have surpassed his tutor in everything that he did and to have taken all of Marcus' research for his own, to have been there to gloat over his victory and laugh in scorn at his tutor's failure.

What scared him the most was that he had found it so good to watch his mentor die.

"Dr Birkin? Are you still there?" Spencer asked suddenly, jarring Birkin away from that terrible memory.

He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his lab coat and took a few deep breaths to steady his trembling hands as he held the phone to his ear. "Y-yes, sir," he confirmed nervously.

"I am becoming quite irritated with this delay. I had intended a short phone call with Wesker, but instead of which, you are delaying and enlonging this call, thus distracting me from important business that requires my more urgent attention. Now, I will ask you again, where...is...Wesker?" the Umbrella founding-father questioned sternly, his tone of voice becoming dark enough to choke the life out of the scientist he was speaking to.

Birkin jumped in absolute terror when he heard Spencer's tone of voice and the forceful emphasis on the last three words in his question, the memory of Dr James Marcus lying dead on the laboratory floor springing to mind as a dreadful reminder of what could happen. Just as Birkin opened his mouth to give out what he thought what be a suitable response (or at least he hoped it was) when the door of the office opened sharply and Albert Wesker stepped inside, walking up to Birkin and snatching the phone from him, giving Birkin a brief glance behind his dark sunglasses before he placed it to his ear and started to speak with Spencer in his calm, stoic attitude that he was well-known for.

For a couple of seconds, Birkin continued to study Wesker as he spoke on he phone with Spencer, his mind thinking over what he knew about the cool young prodigy he had worked with since their arrival at the Training Facility, and he briefly wondered if Wesker was as affected by Dr Marcus' murder or by Lord Spencer's ruthless influence as he was. Ever since that day when Wesker had come knocking on his door and asking for a partnership with each other, Birkin had always seen Wesker as a cool, calm and cunning individual with a vast knowledge of many things and the ability to manipulate either a person or conversation into his own favour. He had seen this ability performed many times over during their partnership, when he had been able to fool Dr Marcus into believing that he could trust in them both to find the person spying on his research but it had really been Albert Wesker himself all along, hacking into his computer files and bugging his room without Marcus becoming suspicious of him. Another example was the way that Wesker could speak with Lord Spencer without so much as looking afraid or pensive about the prospect of speaking with such a powerful individual, in the way he could act so calm and stoic as he always did, despite the fact that he was talking to a man who would just as easily snap his fingers and have him executed, then buried in an unknown shallow grave along with their mentor.

In addition, when they had been ordered to murder Dr Marcus by Spencer for what he had done to jeopardize the research on the T-Virus, Birkin had been immensely scared and had outrightly refused to take part in it, even attempting to stand up to Wesker in order to break away from their partnership so he wouldn't be involved in the assassination, but Wesker had become quite angry by his denial to carry out their orders, angry enough for him to remove his sunglasses to reveal his hard, cobalt eyes and hoist Birkin off of his feet by his shirt collar, glaring at him full force in the face and reminding him very clearly that they had no choice in the matter but to carry out the assassination since Spencer would kill them instead for insubordination and betrayal, stating that Birkin had no choice but to follow all of Spencer's orders because he and Wesker were in deep enough with Umbrella as it was.

And yet, when they had committed the assassination of Dr James Marcus and were promoted to the position of Arklay laboratories Head Researchers, Wesker showed barely the faintest hint of regret or guilt at what he had done to get the position he was now in place of, treating the entire affair as a single business transaction and just sweeping it under the rug to be forgotten by everyone whilst the Tyrant-Virus project moved forward, still acting as calm and cool as ever when he worked in the labs; even if he had been asked a question about Dr Marcus or Lord Spencer by another member of staff, he simply shrugged his shoulders and left them with a blunt answer, namely 'It is not my position to be my bosses' psychiatrist', whilst Birkin would immediately become very uncomfortable with the question and just engross himself in his work in an attempt to ignore the question.

To be honest with himself, Birkin had begun to feel very impressed by Wesker's cool persona, his irrefutable knowledge and his natural talents to perform any action he wanted without getting himself in trouble after the many years they had spent working together since, without Wesker, Birkin would never have gotten as far as he did in the T-Virus research because Wesker was the only one out of the two who could speak with the corporation's higher-ups without buckling under any pressure that may be projected towards him. When they had both formed their partnership several years ago and Marcus placed them onto the Progenitor project, both of them worked together very well and had made many advancements in the project, due to their teamwork and combined scientific knowledge, thus gaining much respect and notice from the higher-ups for their achievements, but, one of the main reasons that their work had succeeded so well was not just down to Birkin's vast intellect, yet contributed by Wesker's political understanding and professional attitude towards his work, since he could manage the laboratories effectively enough to keep the project on track and still keep his emotions in check whilst handling dangerous specimens.

_It's like he is never fazed or surprised by anything in his life, like nothing at all affects his calm, professional personality. Except maybe for her._

Birkin shuddered involuntarily, vividly remembering the horrible female specimen that Spencer kept locked up in the cell, the young girl who just wouldn't die despite from the years of experimentation and torture she had to have endured. When he had first seen her, he had immediately left her cell and threw up the contents of his lunch, finding himself deathly afraid of what she was and unable to face the horrific sight of where her face should have been, to look upon the multitude of human faces plastered over her own head and back like horrific face-masks that a child had made, their expressions fixed in unearthly agony and pain from where she had torn them off from other people as Spencer had explained to them.

And later, to his surprise and confusion, Wesker had dashed out of the room and was staring blankly at the wall across from him, his sunglasses held in wildly trembling hands and his blue eyes were unfocused, randomly darting about the room in terror and shock. Then, there was that other time Wesker had gone to visit Lisa whilst Birkin was working on the Hunters a few months ago, when he had requested for Birkin's ID card and had claimed that he wanted to make sure that there were no problems with her; however, when he came back, Birkin noticed that Wesker looked slightly shaken and was breathing a bit more heavily than usual, as if he had just been attacked by Lisa; yet when Birkin questioned him about it, he merely ignored him and went back to focusing on bringing the Arklay facilities up and running again.

_And yet, I still can't help but wonder if he actually still feels human emotions beneath that cool expression of his. I mean, after committing murder like this on such a grand scale, he must feel something._

"Oh, on the subject of Birkin, I apologize for the wait. I was currently out on a stroll, fresh air and all that. But I can asure you, Mr Spencer, he is currently back to much important work on the T-Virus," Wesker stated firmly to Spencer, glancing impassively at Birkin as he continued to stare back with a blank expression on his face.

Shaking his head slightly to stop his continuous staring at his colleague, feeling a momentary pang of embarrassment for looking like something of a Neanderthal, he mouthed the words 'I will check on the labs' quietly to Wesker (to which his partner nodded curtly) and then left the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. He then proceeded through the halls at a brisk pace, ignoring the greetings from the other scientists and the salutes from the guards as he continued walking through the mansion to the labs. It took him very little time to get to the main labs and for him to make his way to floor B4 where the fully-completed Hunters were currently stored.

As he headed for the elevator, he took brief glances through the windows and doors to observe the activities beyond, to watch the other scientists write up reports and perform experiments in the labs, engrossed in the research on the T-Virus, to look at the technicians whilst they busied themselves in fixing and repairing the many pieces of technology that the laboratories held, and the many guards who stood firm and alert nearby, with their fingers on triggers and eyes on the various specimens that screamed in terror as the virus was injected into their bloodstream. In short, it was business as usual back at the Arklay facilities.

_And it became true because 'she' died during her work._

Birkin let out an angry growl from between his teeth, the envy, betrayal and humiliation he had felt that time coming back to him as he thought about the spoilt brat who had made his work suffer so much over the past few years. When Alexia Ashford had arrived on the scene, Birkin knew that all of his work had begun to fall apart at the seams drastically and that every one of his achievements were being forsaken by the corporation in favor of the young child researcher that Umbrella had employed for the Antarctica facility because, as Wesker had told him once before, the Ashford family had been one of the key founders in Umbrella's hierarchy and were involved in the Progenitor project from the very second that Spencer approved it, thus the higher-ups were naturally ecstatic to have the Ashford family's greatest descendant, Alexia, work for them on the newly-created T-Virus.

However, whilst the corporation's bureaucrats and politicians slaved away to serve all of Alexia Ashford's requests and demands in her work, Birkin busied himself, having been overcome by jealousy and a shattered-pride, desperately in the Arklay facilities to try and regain the praise he had lost to Alexia by making brand new discoveries with the T-Virus in order to show the executive board he was the superior one. Although, despite how much he thought it would get better and better, he wasn't ignorant to the contradictory evidence that showed him that his situation was getting worse over time, since the entire Arklay laboratory and facilities had fullen inexplicably into disarray. This had been down to the fact that, no matter how fast Birkin worked, how specific he made his instructions to each member of the staff or how well Wesker managed the facility's politics, nothing could have been done to acquire the resources they needed to keep their specimens alive or to keep the laboratories running efficiently, thus several Hunters had died in stasis and the entire facility had fallen to Hell. And instead of doing their best to help resolve the problems, all those pathetic little idiots in the other labs just sat there lazily on their behinds as the facilities fell to shit, whiny and complaining to Birkin about how their work would go so much better if 'Miss Alexia Ashford' were in charge. Simply put, Birkin's entire research endeavors and accomplishments had fallen through the blender and he could do nothing to stop it.

Until, a few days ago, a miracle had come to them. During another hectic work-day, Wesker had called for a privatemeeting between all the Arklay Facility's Department Heads at the Conference Room on the Dormitories First Floor. Normally, had anyone else called for a meeting, Birkin would have brushed it off as a mere banter of political trash that would impede on much need work-time and carried on with his research, but since it had been Wesker who called the meeting into order, he decided to leave his research for a few minutes and attend the meeting; besides, he was actually curious as to Wesker's reasons for calling a meeting during their work hours when he himself didn't particularly hold any desire to attend the meetings, unless ordered by Spencer for the obvious reasons. He had attended the full meeting, which lasted around an hour, with full attention and occasionally asking questions that he thought were important about the subject concerning of what they were to do with the Hunters or the other experimental ideas that they wanted to begin, such as the Chimera project that had been put forward a week ago and accepted by the board. At first, Birkin wondered whu he had even bothered to come to the meeting since it wasn't really mentioning any worth of his interest or attendance, but near the end, Wesker handed out several copies of a report that Spencer had written to each them and told them to read it. Doing as Wesker asked, Birkin read through it carefully and after he had read every single word in every line in every paragraph of the report, he felt a small pang of triumph and mirth at what it had said, at the small premonition that declared to him that his work would come back on track at last; Alexia Ashford, the famous child prodigy of one of the world's first and finest aristocratic families, had died in an accident during the course of her work in her family's Antarctica facility.

And soon afterwards, that little premonition he had came true. The Arklay laboratories were now back to running at full efficiency again and had recovered from the disastrous period that had seriously impeded on their work. All the staff were finally focusing back on the tasks he assigned to them and leaving the topic on Alexia Ashford down in the grave along with her, all the necessary technology and resources that they needed for their research had been repaired and delivered to them, and they had already made several new progress advancements on their T-Virus research, a good example being the half-a-dozen Hunters they currently had in stasis down on the B4 level, ready and waiting to be inspected by Lord Spencer on his next visit.

But strangely enough to Birkin, despite everything he had suffered over the past few months when she had arrived, after all the primal rage and jealously he was forced to endure as his work rotted away around him and the Umbrella corporation forsook him for the young, aristocratic prodigy, he didn't really act or seem as glad about Alexia's death as he had believed he should be. If she had died a few years ago, right around near the time when the Arklay laboratories fell to disarray, he would have danced and cheered and hooted to the top of his lungs in joy at hearing the news about that spoilt brat's death, since it would imply that he was still the best researcher working on Umbrella's T-Virus project and that all of the corporation's praise would come back to where it rightfully belonged, with him. Yet in actuality, for some strange and unknown reason, he didn't react too excited or overjoyed to the news about Alexia's death, even though she had caused him a lot of damage to his pride and delay in his work that caused the corporation to forsake him, instead merely feeling a small sense of relief and happiness at her passing before he busied himself back in his work again.

When he had heard about her death, he shrugged off Wesker's brief questions on the subject, since he too had been curious about his behavior or lack of it, and ignored any of his own attempts at self-analysis on the matter, finding it all irrelevant, and just simply returned to his tasks in restoring the Arklay facilities in order for the T-Virus to continue forward. However, since there was little to be done until Spencer's next visit and the inspection of the Hunters, he decided he might as well indulge his own curiosity and analyze the matter in question. He should have been proud, mirthful, ecstatic, overjoyed and immensely relieved at the slightest mention of hearing any sort of information regarding Alexia's death (after all, he had lost much when she arrived on the scene, so he deserved the right to act in such a way), but instead, he felt little happiness or ecstasy about his rival's death and shrugged it off as he would have done to any other subject he found unrelated to him.

But the 'why' was what eluded him the most. Why? Why didn't act as he should have done? Why didn't he feel overjoyed or glad about Alexia's death despite everything she had brought down on him?

_I guess Annette was right. I don' have to worry about her. I am a genius and I have made more advances than her, so why should I care? She's dead, that's that. What more is there?_

At the mention of the beautiful and intelligent new assistant he had hired weeks ago, a smile came upon Birkin's pale face as the elevator to level B4 rose up to him with a steady hum on its metal-wired pulley system. When the elevator arrived and the gates slid open on their automatic rails, he stepped through and pushed the button for B4 quickly, causing the doors to slide shut and the elevator to descend back down into the labs, his affectionate smile still plastered on his face.

Ever since he had first met Annette, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders by her sweet voice and enchanting smile, her very presence was a soothing balm to his aching heart and her praise of admiration was the very essence that helped to rebuild his shattered pride, resuscitating him enough to be able to face the hefty demands that Umbrella placed on him to complete. After all, with her by his side, he felt like he could accomplish anything, since she was one of the only few people in the entire Arklay labs with the dedication, concentration and intelligence to work on something as promising as the T-Virus, and having worked with her already, he knew that this was most assuredly and he certainly had no regrets in hiring her as his new assistant.

They were just so compatible with each other that they should have been working together ever since she and Birkin had arrived at the Arklay labs because they both possessed the intellect and dedication needed to fully understand the sensitive nature of the T-Virus. They both knew this thanks to that time when Birkin and Annette had first met, when they had both talked with each other about their pasts and personalities after finishing off their work for the day, just having a simple, non-work related conversation between each other like normal human beings and enjoying their presence of each other's company as they walked to the dormitories, and from that long talk, they had soon realized how very much alike they were since they both had similar backgrounds, childhoods and educational achievements throughout their pre-Umbrella times. Sometimes, it came as a complete surprise to Birkin in how similar he was to the talented, young woman he had hired as his new assistant because they had the same likes, dislikes, hobbies, beliefs, faiths, tastes and interests, even so much as having the same favorite color or food; to Birkin, Annette Jenkins was by far the most perfect he had ever had the privilege to meet.

_That might explain why you have become so infatuated with her. You want more than just a working relationship with Miss Jenkins, _his conscious retorted.

Birkin face's began to make a tilt for the red color spectrum as he registered the retort that echoed throughout his head, causing his heart to race faster when the image of Annette's radiant face and sweet smile flashed briefly in his mind, the intimate feelings he felt for her beginning to swell up inside of him like a bright, clean, flowing river of pure spring water. He was already fully aware that his affections for Annette ran deeper than just a mere respect for her scientific talents and appreciation for her helpful assistance in his work, bordering more on something of a love-sick attraction, due to that one time when he had held her delicate hand in his own and stared into her luscious eyes, his gaze bright and shining with that sweet attraction he felt for her during that tender moment. And from looking in her own eyes, he could see that the feeling was mutual since the same emotions he felt for her twinkled in her own eyes as she gazed back at him fully in his stare, her soft slender fingers curled over his own rough digits, her pearly-white smile shining on her rosy lips.

Somehow, despite whatever scientific or logical explanation he could offer on the subject, he felt an unusual and rather enjoyable connection towards Annette after that first meeting, something that was sheerly unbreakable and totally fulfilling between him and her (like a magnet to a steel object), finding it impossible to keep his mind from thinking about her, even during his own work, since he would occasionally glance up at her whilst he was working to admire her beautiful figure and graceful appearance, and he continually felt the urge to spend a lot more time with her, just to merely enjoy the comfort of being in her presence, thus he would spend all of his break-time with her to either talk with her about anything he found interesting or have fun with her in laughing along with any jokes that they made to each other. It almost felt to him as if he was falling in love with her.

He shook his head to clear his mind of such thoughts as the lift soon came to a halt on level B4, the gates sliding open to reveal the metal hallway beyond that led to the main laboratory in the Arklay facilities. He stepped through the doors and headed to the corner at a slow pace, taking deep breaths to decrease the speed that his heart pumped blood around his body as he turned the corner and approached the automatic door in front of him, the door itself sliding up into the roof with a loud hiss. After a few minutes to calm himself, he stepped through the door and walked up to the far side of the lab towards the single figure seated at a desk writing out a report in front of her, the door sliding shut behind him.

Annette Jenkins spun around in her chair to look behind her at the person who had come in, having heard the door open, and smiled as she soon recognized who it was that approached her. "Hello, William!" she greeted cheerfully, her voice singing like a siren's call through the empty lab.

He returned her smile, feeling that familiar affectionate emotion rise up in him again, and stepped up to her desk, leaning against it as he regarded her angelic face and entrancing smile. "Hello, Annette. I just came back from dunking off the reports at Wesker's desk. How are things here?" he asked.

Annette turned back to her desk and regarded the report in front of her, signing it quickly before she handed it to him, still smiling. "Everything is perfect order. All the reports have been written and signed. All the computer and experimental data has been backed up and stored for Spencer to review when he arrives, and I have made sure to pass your instructions to the other members of staff, as you wished," she answered.

Birkin nodded, reading through the report with a scrutinizing eye to check for any mistakes or errors that needed to be corrected. Naturally from her exceptional prowess, he found no mistakes whatsoever in either her handwriting or the way the report was written and handed it back to her. "Good work, Annette," he complimented sincerely, his own smile still perched on his face also. He then glanced up at the six large, filled stasis-tanks in the center of the room, regarding the Hunters inside each of them that floated in the clear, green stasis fluid, all of them having fallen into a deep, peaceful slumber that they had induced on them via the sedatives that had been injected in their bodies. "How have they been?" he asked solemnly, his smile disappearing.

Annette, noticing his expression, glanced over at the Hunters briefly before turning back to him, her own smile gone from her face. "Their condition is stable and healthy, but we will have to keep them under routine observation over the next few months to ensure that we don't have another incident like last time," she answered, her eyes downcasted to the floor and her hands clasped together in her lap as she most likely recalled that incident when they had lost a Hunter after it had gone beserk and drowned in its stasis tank.

Birkin's expression softened to one of sympathy and he stepped closer to her, pulling up a chair to sit next to her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew that that accident still affected her, even though they both knew that the real reasons behind it had been down to lack of resources and the laboratories inability to function efficiently, becoming some sort of a sickening reminder of how she had failed in her duties as a scientist to preserve and protect the work that they had created; however, Birkin had never once blamed her or got angry with her over the issue because he knew that she hadn't caused the incident in deliberation and that the real cause was mainly down to the sheer disarray that the labs had suffered after Alexia Ashford's arrival, so he saw it as his duty to comfort and absolve her of any guilt she felt on the topic.

"It's okay, Annette. No one here blames you for that incident since it had been mainly down to...resource trouble, so don't pay heed of it. You are a very talented and bright young woman, and you will most definitely go far in this line of work, I assure you. I mean, you have done exceptional work over the past few months and I should really thank for it," he said truthfully, the gratitude and affection to her evident in his tone.

Annette looked up sharply at him, looking mildly surprised for a few seconds, before she smiled again at him and took his hand in both of her's, holding it between them as her cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it," she replied, her expression a cross between embarrassment and gratitude.

Birkin smiled at her and placed his other hand over her's, gazing into her deep blue eyes with that same loving emotion he had aways felt for her, immersing himself in that alluring sapphire color of her gaze, noticing the same emotion he felt for her once again coming to light in her own eyes. Both of them stayed that way for several fleeting minutes, seated across from each other by the small desk in the lab, faces creaked into affectionate smiles and their cheeks turning red against their pale skin, their hands held tenderly in each other's grip between them like a young teenage couple, their eyes looked into each other's to gaze at the flurry of emotions that flashed through their stares, both of them recognizing the emotions they felt for each other bubble to the surface off their minds. They knew that they should have been getting back to work on the T-Virus project, focusing more on the important research that they were meant to be conducting for the vast and powerful corporation that they were employed by so as to please the ruthless leader of the company, but at that moment, they just didn't care; all they cared about was just to sit there and enjoy the presence of each other's company, staring into each other's eyes and watching their shared emotions flow between them along the invisible connection that had formed between them on that fateful day.

Suddenly and quite abruptly, a idea had entered Birkin's mind, one that he would have regarded as strange or distracting had it occurred at any other time or situation, when he would have been more focused on his work, but at that current moment, he welcomed it fully along with blushing cheeks as his mind registered what it was that the sudden flash suggested to him. He had just come up with the perfect way in order for him to show his true appreciation to her, to display how grateful he was to her for all of her assistance in his work, to hand to her the well-earned reward that she deserved for her services towards him and the T-Virus research. Plus, it would give him the chance to perform a little experiment with her, to conduct a test on her so he could see if she shared the same feelings of affection towards him as he did for her. After all, ever since that day, he had always known that some unknown feeling or emotion had been awakened deep within his heart by her presence and words that day, and having spent more time in her company, he could well and truly vouch for the fact that his feelings for her were growing to exponential levels, so much so that he couldn't ever stop thinking about her, even during his work. Thus, he needed to see if she shared his affections, that she cared for him similarly to the way he cared for her after all the time they spent together, otherwise...he didn't know what would happen.

His face feeling incredibly hot and drenched with sweat, the evidence obvious from his beet-red cheeks, and finding it quite hard to breath, Birkin cleared his throat awkwardly and let of Annette's hand to fiddle with his shirt collar. Since Birkin had never once even paid heed to a girl before, let alone asked one out on a date, he had no idea how he was going to phrase the question that he wished to ask Annette, his mind struggling to form the words into a coherent sentence whilst his mouth simply began to dry up, causing him to mouth out nothing but deep breaths.

Annette, noticing Birkin's trouble, leaned forward quickly and placed her cool, small hands on either side of his face so she could look him squarely in the eyes, her expression looking very concerned.

"William! Are you alright? Are you ill?" she asked urgently, bringing her chair and herself closer to him.

Birkin continued to stare back blankly at her, trying his best to force some words, any words, out of his mouth in response to her, but his throat felt like something was wrapped tightly around, preventing anything from entering or leaving his lips.

_Come on come on come on! Come on! Don't buckle up now, you idiot! Say something!_

After taking a few more minutes to compose himself and focus his mind on what he wanted to say, he took a final deep breath and looked at her fully in her beautiful face, his resolve now hardened and prepared for the worst.

"Annette, are you doing anything later?" he asked.

Annette's eyes widened in surprise, more so at the question than at his speedy recovery, and she sank back into her chair, her hands brought back into her lap. "No, not really. Just going to have some lunch in a few minutes, since break is coming up shortly," she answered, arching an eyebrow at him in curiosity.

Birkin swallowed down the hard lump that had formed in his throat and wrung his hands together nervously, dreading the thought of rejection. "I was, uh...well, I was just...uh...that is, if you wouldn't mind...would you like to spend our break together...somewhere quiet and...uh, alone?" he asked, stuttering in difficulty as he attempted to phrase the question as politely as he could.

Annette stared back at Birkin for a few minutes in surprise as she realized what it was he had just asked her and she looked away to the side of the room, thinking over how she should answer. Birkin sat back in his seat in dismal silence, his mind bringing up awful thoughts of her rejecting him for a few fleeting moments, but she then turned back to him, wearing her sweet smile again. "I would love to," she answered firmly.

Birkin sighed in relief at her answer, a bright and wonderful joy coursing through his body at the words she had just said, wiping away all traces of the small thoughts of rejection he had just envisioned, and beamed happily at her. "Great! So, say um, the second floor balcony in the western wing, that small terrace that looks out into the woods in fifteen minutes?" he suggested.

She nodded her head. "Okay. I'll bring up some food," she replied.

Birkin nodded his head and got to his feet, a huge burst of energy charging up his body. "Okay. I'll see you then," he said and hurried swept out of the room, hearing a similar response from Annette echo down the hall behind as he jogged up to the elevator, tapping the button to open the gates, and he stepped inside quickly, pushing the button for the upper floor.

_I did it! I can't believe that I had just asked Annette out on a date and she has just agreed! My God, am I dreaming?_

Inside the small tiny elevator that rose up in the depths of the Umbrella Arklay laboratories, beneath Lord Oswell E. Spencer's carefully constructed and secluded estate in the vast wilderness of Raccoon Forest, William Birkin silently cheered in complete mirth and excitement at the prospect of the upcoming date he was going to have with Annette Jenkins, the woman he had grown so tremendously fond of. As far as he could remember, he had never felt so happy, so overjoyed about anything he had ever been able to experience throughout his whole life; not even when he had been offered the opportunity of working on Progenitor all the years ago by Dr James Marcus had he been so ecstatic, despite how promising, powerful or revolutionary it had been to him back then. And in that brief moment of joy, he thanked God himself for granting him the chance to have his very first date with the young woman who his affections ran wild for, even though Birkin had always been a bone-fide atheist on the matter of religion and would have scoffed at the idea of a supreme, almighty being creating the universe in just seven days if someone else had mentioned it to him.

_This is practically my very first date and I want to cherish this moment with Annette for as long as I live._

When the elevator stopped, Birkin rushed out of the elevator and dashed through the many halls of the facility towards his room in the dormitories, ignoring the stares of the other employees who looked at him in confusion and curiosity at his peculiar behavior. This was a very important for him, even more so than his research on the T-Virus, and he wanted to ensure that he would be more than ready for such an event...

_What a beautiful sight! A large untampered forest in the middle of a snowy winter. Surely worthy enough to be painted by the most talented artist._

Annette Jenkins sat down on the single bench on the mansion's western balcony terrace and reached out with one gloved hand to grab a few of the small snowflakes that fell from the darkened cloudy sky, gazing out in wonderment at the sight of the snow-covered trees and wilderness that stretched beyond the large Victorian mansion she was in, tucking the small bag of food under the bench to keep its contents warm. During her childhood, Annette had always loved, and still did love, the winter season and everything that one could find or do during the cold period, such as the snowfalls that covered the ground in pure white snow, the beautiful sights of nature during the harshly cold season, the days when schools would be cosed down so she could stay at home to work on her own projects, and to spend some time with her parents either building snowmen in their back garden or sitting together in front of a roaring fire with a nice cup of hot chocolate.

Annette smiled at the thought of her parents, vividly remembering all the wonderful times that she had spent with them during the winter and summer breaks from her college and university, recalling the moments in her life when she had acted as a normal and average everyday child, just having fun with her family when her university or college had closed for those short periods of time before her major exams. Her parents had been wonderful people to her and very supportive throughout her childhood, always there for her when she needed them or requiring something from them, providing her with everything that she needed during her academic years, such as paying for all the applications funds she needed to enter her college and university, or frequently sending her letters to ask how she was doing or if she needed anything from them in her university life. And when the summer or winter breaks arrived, they would all either go to the beach, visit their relatives or stay at home and play simple board games together, in which she beat them several times in a row, but only if she wasn't too busy with her school work.

Normally, being the child prodigy that she was, she spent most of her time working hard at college or university, speeding through her exams and degrees to graduate with full honors at the end of her terms, becoming one of the youngest students to achieve some of the highest results in the exams. Other times, she would lock herself in her room and slave away in revising for her exams or working on her chemistry set to make many different chemical reactions with what the set gave to her when she had some short periods of time off from her education to do what she wanted.

But, during the longer breaks from her college or university, she would sometimes come out of her room at her parents' calls and they would ask whether she wanted to go with them to the park or beach for the day. Sometimes, she would refuse their offer and return to her room to work, but other times, she would agree to what they wanted and she would spend the entire day doing what normal families did together with her parents, and she would enjoy it a lot, despite the fact that she would have also liked to carry on with her work.

This was what had gone on between them whilst she had been going through college and university, those frequent times when she and her parents would spend time with each other away from all her academic work, but soon after her graduation, the Umbrella corporation came forward to her with a proposal of working for them as a scientist in one of their highly-advanced facilities, creating new antidotes or vaccines for the many different viruses that were now abundant in their world, with the promise of full benefits and a steady income; since she was an expert in biology and biochemistry, and had been meaning to search for an employer where she could put her scientific talents and knowledge to good use, she readily accepted their proposition and was immediately sent to the Arizona Training Facility to be initiated into Umbrella's staff, thus she fell out of contact with her parents for some time.

It had been near enough two years since she had heard from her parents, having neither seen them nor spoke to them ever since her application at the Training Facility and her assignment to the Arklay laboratories, but she didn't really pay it second thought due to the important and busy nature of her work, focusing herself mainly on the sensitive T-Virus research rather than to indulge in talking with her parents. Besides, if she ever saw them again, what could she tell them about her work, if anything at all? Umbrella's shadow-work on the T-Virus was far from being legal or moral in any sense of the word, and if the general public found out about what the pharmaceutical corporation had created, there would be a massive outcry for justice and the UN would immediately move in to arrest all of Umbrella's higher-ups, and bleed dry their assets. This was the main reason why, whenever an employee wanted to leave the grounds or send a message to distant family members, all documents and visits were to be monitored by Umbrella officials in order to ensure that there is no leak of information, either to corporate rivals or the public press, hence Annette had never once made the decision to speak with her parents again.

_I know it sounds cruel, but what else can I do? I work for Spencer and Umbrella now, and there is no such thing as resigning or retiring from the corporation. I am in this line of work until I die and that is that._

"Mum, Dad, I am sorry about this. But there is no other way to it," she said out loud, trying to convince herself that what she thought was right.

"Annette, are you okay?" a voice suddenly asked from behind her.

Annette snapped her head around to see William Birkin standing by the door from the main hall, looking at her with a concerned expression on his face, currently wearing a simple black sweater over a green T-shirt, with blue jeans, black gloves and white sneakers. It was strange seeing dressed in something different from the science uniform that he was normally seen in; it made him look more like an average human being rather than the brilliant, high-ranking scientist he was. But then, the same would apply to Annette, since she herself had abandoned her science uniform for a white turtleneck sweater, blue shirt, brown gloves, white jeans and sneakers.

She nodded slightly at Birkin before she turned back to look out at the snow-covered woodland. "I am fine. Just thinking about my parents," she answered.

She heard Birkin step closer to her where she sat on the bench until she could see him out of the corner of her eye, standing beside her with his hands in his trouser pockets.

"You miss them, huh?" he asked politely.

Annette glanced up at him and scooted across the bench to allow him to sit down. "Yes, a little," she answered.

Birkin walked over and sat next to her on the bench, looking out at the winter landscape that was Raccoon Forest, his gaze focused on something far away. "It's only natural. They are your parents after all," he replied.

Annette turned to look out at the forest again, finding solace in just watching the simple snowflakes fall to the ground and the memories that they brought to her. "I suppose. When I was a child and going through my education, they were always there to support me throughout those brief years and even though I had never asked them for anything, I was grateful they offered to help. Sometimes, we would have fun together during the summer or winter breaks, just to do things families did, like go to the beach or build snowmen in our garden, although it was only for those long breaks since they knew how important my work was to me," she explained, smiling at the memories that came to her mind.

She then looked at Birkin. "What about your parents?" she asked.

At first, Birkin merely sat there on the bench silently staring out at the woods in silence, making Annette wonder whether he had heard her or not, but then he answered bluntly, "Same as yours."

Annette scooted a little closer to him, although she left some room between them. "Really? What were they like?"

Birkin shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing to complain about. My parents were like yours, supportive, proud and caring, but I never really paid them much attention, since I was normally enthralled in my work. They didn't mind that I spent most of my time alone and I didn't complain at all to them, so you could say we were pretty content. I remember that my mother claimed God blessed me with my intelligence." He laughed a little in response. "I just scoffed at the idea and retorted that it was all genetics, not faith. Unlike you, Annette, I never really did family activities with my parents; I simply greeted them in the morning, said goodbye before I left and thanked them for their help," he explained.

Annette listened intently to what he said and made sure he was finished before she asked, "But there must be something you did together, with your family?"

Birkin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his expression deep in thought over his answer. "Well, I guess you could say that the time I did spend time with them was my graduation party. After I left university, my parents arranged a huge celebration with their family and friends to commerate my graduation. I actually enjoyed it and had stuck around for the whole party, until my father called me upstairs to his study for something private. It turns out that my father had been job-seeking for me and had sent my entire academic record to several corporations or employers who would be interested in my employment, and during the party, an Umbrella official had arrived to speak with me. We spent some time discussing over all the issues that come with employment; payment, coverage, opportunities, workplaces etc. I was impressed with the offer, so I signed up and they sent me to the old Arklay Training Facility. Once I had arrived, they allowed me one phone call home and I simply thanked my parents for everything they did for me, and they just replied about how proud they were of me. Then my work on the Progenitor started and I couldn't speak with them again," he explained.

Annette nodded her head in response, already aware of how all of Umbrella's employees had to isolate themselves from their families. "Do you miss them?" she asked.

Birkin looked at her and shook his head. "Not really. I have my work to perform and I know they are fine with what they have, so I rarely think about them," he answered.

Annette opened her mouth to say something in response but no words came out from between her lips as she gazed up at Birkin's face, both of them were silent as they both stared at each other's faces again, enjoying the sight of each other's eyes as that hidden emotion between them danced in their gaze. They stayed that way for several minutes, sitting very close to each other with their faces a few inches apart, their stares fixed firmly on the other person's, snow falling around them silently and a slight breeze blowing through their hair, until finally they both turned to look away from each other, their cheeks having turned a bright red.

"Why don't we eat?" Annette asked, pulling out the bag of food from underneath the bench and placing it on her lap.

Birkin nodded, smiling. "Good idea. I haven't had anything to eat yet apart from those rubbish chocolate bars," he stated dryly.

Annette giggled. "Well, we better give you some decent food to eat then, shouldn't we?" she retorted, taking out a few sandwiches wrapped in plastic foil, handing one to Birkin which he readily accepted.

The pair of them ate through a large meal that consisted of several sandwiches, some Shepard's pie, a couple of Bran muffins and a thermos full of hot chocolate, occasionally making small jokes or conversation between each other as they ate, attempting to avoid any mention of their work on their date. It took a little over half an hour to finish their meal and to pack what was left of the rubbish away into the plastic bag, and the two them stayed seated on the bench, looking out over the woods again in silence as they contemplated on what else they were to say.

When a few seconds had passed, Birkin cleared his throat. "That was a lovely meal," he complemented.

Annette smiled appreciatively at him. "Thank you. I try my best," she replied.

Birkin nodded absentmindedly, looking very much lost in thought about something.

Annette's smile vanished as she glanced at Birkin's expression, noticing how solemn it was getting. "William, are you alright?" she asked.

Birkin made no attempt to move or answer her question as he continued to stare blankly in thought, sitting rigidly in his seat like a remade version of 'the Thinker', until at last he sighed, looking up at Annette's face wearing his solemn expression. "Annette, I have to admit that I had an ulterior motive for asking you here," he said.

Annette leaned back in her seat, feeling slightly nervous at what Birkin might say, and nodded her head for him to continue.

Birkin rubbed the back of his neck again, his cheeks making another turn towards the red color spectrum, and he took a few deep breaths to slow his rapidly-beating heart. "Well, you see...ever since we first met...I, uh, had...felt something between us. And, um, I don't know how to explain it, but I think that my feelings for you have...grown a lot over the years, and I, um, want to continue our relationship together. But, well, I have no idea about your...feelings on the matter and I would like to, uh, know how you feel about it," he explained to her, stumbling over his words in embarrassment.

Annette felt her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth hang open in disbelief as her ears registered what he had said, finding it hard to believe that she had really heard what she had wanted to hear him say since that day.

_Does he feel the same way? Is he...?_

"W-what are you saying, William?" she asked.

Birkin looked up at her and opened his mouth in response, trying his best to force some words out from his lips, but nothing came out except a few strangled croaks. Annette remained quiet out of kindness, waiting patiently for him to try and speak to her, mentally urging him to speak with all her might, yet still he didn't say anything. But when Annette turned her head to look away, she felt Birkin's hand gently clasp her chin and gently turn it to face him, looking directly his eyes and seeing her exact same feelings for him reflected in his eyes for her. She reached up with one of her hands and placed it on his warm red cheek, gently caressing it small circular motions whilst he rubbed his thumb gently along her chin, making her shiver with delight at the feeling it sent up her spine.

Soon, he leaned forward towards her, slowly closing his eyes and his lips parting slightly, causing his warm breath to flow against her cool skin; Annette slowly leaned forward as well, her cheeks beginning to flush as she drew closer to him, following his example by closing her own eyes and parting her own lips as an invitation. Then suddenly, she felt his lips against her own and several fireworks went off in her mind, making her feel warm and whole inside her heart, relishing the feel of her lips against his.

_He's...! He's kissing me!! He does...feel the same as I do!!_

This was the moment that Annette had been dreaming about for a long time since that day, ever since that time when she saw the same emotion flow through him as it did through her, when she felt that connection form between them and they had started working together in the labs; the moment when she could finally show William Birkin how she really felt about him.

She had always been enthralled with him after that day they had been together, when she had felt something form between them after they had held hands and stared into each other's eyes. At first, she had no idea what that fleeting emotion for him had been, due to the fact that she had never once experienced such a feeling at all in her life, but over the times when she and Birkin were spending so much time together either in the labs working or taking breaks together away from others, she had come to realize that she was falling in love with him. She just couldn't stop thinking about him, thinking about being together with him, since they were already the perfect pair together in their work and were so very much alike in every other way, dreaming about becoming a couple with him (despite all the troubles that may come from either Wesker or Spencer if they found out) and doing all the small things that couples could do. However, with those dreams came the dreaded thoughts of rejection, of realizing that her love for him was unrequited, that he didn't feel the same way about her as she did for him and that he would turn down her advances towards him; she had always feared those thoughts of rejection, those visions of him rejecting her because she knew that her heart wouldn't be able to take the pain it would cause her.

But now, she had finally uncovered that he felt the same way for her, that her feelings weren't unrequited, and that he was definitely meaning to extend their relationship as much as she wanted to.

A few minutes past between them, the two of them sharing a small romantic kiss together in the beautiful snowfall, flowing their feelings for each other between that short kiss between them, neither of them caring whether anyone saw them or not because all they cared about was that they both loved each other and that they were together at last.

Soon, Birkin and Annette broke away from the kiss and stared into each other's eyes for a few minutes, watching the love for each other swim around merrily in their gaze, affectionate smiles growing on their lips, before Birkin placed his hands around Annette's chest and drew her close to him into a tight hug, Annette wrapping her own arms around him and burying her face in his shoulders.

"I love you, Annette," Birkin whispered sincerely into her ear.

"I love you too, William," she replied, feeling tears of joy come to her eyes and slide down her cheeks, sobbing happily into his shoulder because she know felt that everything was right in the world with her new-found lover together with her.

But little did she know was that Birkin's face had similar tears falling down his cheeks as he felt the exact same way she felt, that they were finally together, as they should be...

**Well, here it is! The next development in William and Annette's romantic relationship! Hope it was nice to read, since I ain't that good at romance, having not written much in my writing.**

**And I hope that everyone is still in character as usual, especially with Wesker's thoughts on his career change.**

**Thanks to all who have read, reviewed and favourited my story; greatly appreciated!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 36!!**


	36. Chapter 36

Thirty Six

Another three years had passed with very little happenings or relevance, the date being mid-June, 1986; the start of another continuing season in Mother Nature's designated seasonal clock, the sun high in the clear sky, casting its bright rays of light down onto the planet below, the breeze that flowed over the woods gently swaying the branches of trees side-to-side and offering a cool counterpart towards the searing temperatures that covered the world. Three simple, ordinary years went by that the people of Earth barely even paid heed to, being as immersed in their own lives so much that they barely noticed the time fly by on its regular daily circle, like the planet rotating on its axis, always spinning but never knowing it is.

This also applied to the Umbrella employees who worked on their secret black-project, all of them more focused and concentrated on the T-Virus rather than what went on around them in the world outside, since they all knew how important the work was to the corporation and how ruthless Spencer, their employer, could be if they failed to keep up with his demands on the project, thus each and every one of them remained fixed on their work and busied themselves in whatever they were ordered to, despite how slow or repetitive the results of their experiments seemed to them. Albert Wesker, head of the Arklay labs, was no exception, since he was now busying himself with supervising all of the work down in the labs, ensuring that all the experiments were running efficiently and safely, and analyzing all the research data they obtained in order to determine which piece of data could be more useful in helping to advance their T-Virus project, but all the new data he read through or received over the years was merely repeating what they had already uncovered years before.

_Spencer, why do you keep making us repeat the same experiments over and over again, when all the results remain the same?_

Wesker sighed and placed the folder back on the desk, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his tired, sore eyes, the stress and strain of the work catching up with him. It had been a long and weary three years of working in the laboratories underneath the Spencer Estate, each of them passing by one after the other exactly the same, deliberately and unbearably slow, barely any progress made forward and nothing new had been produced from their T-Virus research, due to Spencer's constant orders and sheer refusals to change their 'highest priority' that he had enforced on their shoulders.

Throughout the entire work hours that all staff had to endure, from eight in the morning until nine in the evening, for the past three years, since the labs had now recovered from its downward plunge to disarray and were back to full working efficiency after Alexia's death, they were forced under orders from Spencer to constantly repeat the same experiment over and over again, using specifically picked human specimens and infecting them with the T-Virus, until they came up with the answer to cure the T-Virus of its one remaining flaw, namely that inability to fully wipe out a population instead of the 90 kill-rate it already possessed.

He got up and began to pace about the office quietly, his hands folded behind his back, occasionally reaching up to straighten his sunglasses as his mind recalled everything that he knew about the T-Virus and began remembery every detail that he himself had worked on as part of his career. As all of the employees in Umbrella's secret machinations knew fully well, the T-Virus was an extremely powerful mutagen with the potential to infect and mutate every living creature on the planet into deadly BOWs, including human beings. And thanks to extensive research on the virus, they knew that they had to the ability to manipulate the genes of any living organism, including splicing and replacing certain genes or DNA strands in the host, and combine it with the virus to form even more powerful BOWs, such as the Hunters. However, due to a strange trait evident in the virus, somehow the T-Virus has the death rate of 90 of infected, due to the other 10 having some form of an immunity to the virus' mutagenic properties, despite any method of infection to their body, either bites or injections. At first, Wesker had decided to hand over his report to Spencer, explain all the details about the virus and that they should leave it as it was because a virus with the capabilities to wipe out near enough an entire population was still an excellent biological weapon to sell on the open-market and fetch an incredibly large sum of money from potential purchasers. At least, that was his original idea a decade back.

But Spencer, for reasons yet to be determined, fiercely refused such actions and made a strict demand to all the scientists in every Umbrella facility to focus their endeavors on improving the T-Virus so that it could kill an entire population effortlessly, ignoring all the costs, delays and dangers it was bringing down on all of the facilities. And no one, not even the members of the board who worked with him, could dissuade him from his orders without risking to spark his temper, thus the labs were spending hour after hour, day after day, trying to solve the riddle behind the T-Virus' inability to kill 100 of potential hosts. So, all of Umbrella's employees had no choice but to keep on repeating the same experiments over and over again in an attempt to uncover the flaw in the T-Virus' mutational properties, without open complaints to be made. However, they merely continued to obtain the same results repeatedly and had met with nothing short of failure after failure after failure.

_And Spencer still continues to ignore the costs of this project, even though he surely knows how expensive this all is. Not to mention, there is the risk of a potential epidemic if the virus were to escape outside and cause an outbreak._

Wesker stopped briefly in his pacing and glanced out of the office window beyond the desk in front of him, staring at the vast woodland outside, watching as the small sparrows flew back and forth in front of the window, and the plants swayed side-to-side gently in the sweet summer breeze, the sun shining brightly down upon the forest floor. It was truly a beautiful scene but this did nothing to cheer Wesker's move, since his mind was wrapped around the danger and worry about the possibility of a T-Virus outbreak.

When working on any type of virus, natural or man-made, one had to ensure that they had the money, power and cunning to work on such a project, especially when the aim behind the project was biological warfare, since they would have to make sure that no one would ever find out about it, that they could supply the project adequately enough with everything it needed and that they could supervise the entire operation perfectly so it could fulfill its aims without much trouble or danger. And they had to be sure that they constructed a sufficient enough facility to house all of the technology, research samples, specimens, staff and equipment without either the public noticing what was happening or the virus leaking into the environment and spreading across the entire neighboring area towards a population, causing an epidemic.

But Spencer however, despite all of these facts and necessities which he most likely knew of himself, was blatantly ignoring the dangers of the virus escaping and the consequences that could arise if the virus were to spread to the city, spreading through the city and infecting all life inside with the deadly biological agent, thus revealing their work to everyone on Earth and bringing down the entire public eye upon them. The evidence was obvious, if one could see how dangerous the estate's site was in contrast to the virus' mutational abilities and the immediate environment justs outside the mansion. Having constructed a large laboratory complex beneath an old and run down mansion would have been considered a stroke of genius, had it not been built in such a potentially dangerous area like Raccoon Forest, since the entire woods would end up becoming a breeding ground for the T-Virus if it escaped. There could be no denying it, although Spencer preferred to ignore it, that the thought of an outbreak was just too plausible in the facility's area of construction and the more-than-likely prospect of an epidemic certainly stood in a very high chance of occurring if the virus escaped.

And, from some extensive research Wesker had conducted on the corporation's activities during his spare time, it seemed that such a fate had occurred with some of Umbrella's other facilities stationed abroad in other countries; more than once had the Progenitor escaped, from work accidents or sabotage by competitors, and gone wild in less than suitable areas to conceal their work, causing the infection to spread into either human settlements or inhabitable wilderness, nearly enough causing what could have been a disastrous epidemic.

The first outbreak incident had occurred in a remote farming village somewhere in Africa, meaning that incident wasn't exactly a major point, since the village was isolated from the main cities and the wildlife in the area wasn't exactly a large population for the virus to spread across the provinces, meaning the incident wouldn't have been noticed so quickly and the corporation had significantly enough time to wipe away the evidence. However, the other two incidents that occurred afterwards had been far more dangerous and terrible than the previous outbreak, since the virus itself had managed to escape into much larger inhabited areas, which were in South America, Utah and the mountain ranges on the Isle of Crete. Wesker had shuddered at the thought of would have happened if the virus had been allowed to propagate in those two areas and spread across the local environment because then what Umbrella would have suffered from was noting short of a full-blown pandemic, even worse if the virus spread into any cities or towns, but through sheer good fortune and dumb luck, Umbrella had successfully managed to cover up the incidents via a complete sterilization of the area using a high-temperature explosion to erase all traces of the virus and the BOW clean-up operations conducted by their special forces, although the operations were completely largely due to the skills of the USF agent 'John Doe', now known as HUNK. And, due to their deep pockets and large connections in the political stage, the corporation had been able to masquerade the incidents as something of a terrorist attack or natural disaster, thus avoiding any suspicions from the general public or local governments, since any sort of explosion or special forces presence would have riled up many conspiracy buffs or the public press.

At least Umbrella was prepared for the possibility of an outbreak, but that still didn't change the fact that Spencer was blatantly ignoring the danger and shirking the safety responsibilities he was meant to uphold as the head of the corporation. Even if the site was to be destroyed by an explosion or the USF were sent in to take out the escaped specimens, that still didn't change the fact that an epidemic was still possible; even if a single specimen or a small trace of the virus were to escape the sterilization, it would spread like wildfire throughout the environment and if anyone caught wind of the virus, Umbrella would be practically crucified.

After all, what they were doing with the T-Virus was quite possibly the most horrifying thing humanity could ever experience or see in its history on Earth. A virus with the ability to bring the dead back to life, to create demons from Hell out of simple creatures, all of it towards the endeavor of warfare and bloodshed, to feed the fires of war and make a hefty profit for their corporation, conducting horrific genetic experiments upon hundreds of living creatures, even human beings.

Sometimes, during his time off, Wesker briefly considered over everything he had done for the company and how many people he had experimented on in his entire career. Ever since Marcus had him involved with Progenitor project when he and Birkin had enrolled at the Training Facility, he had been given the authorisation to conduct any kind of experiment he wished, to perform any sort of tests on any sort of specimens, ranging from mammals to reptiles, so long as he obtained worthwhile results for the corporation to use. Then, he had been promoted as Head Researcher for the Arklay laboratories alongside Birkin by Spencer, thus given permission for him to work with all forms of research specimens, including human beings. And throughout that entire time, Wesker had done quite terrible things to them, there could be no denying that; he had injected them with an extremely toxic mutagen and had literally killed them just to bring them back to life or mutated them into hideous monstrosities of science.

He never talked about it with anyone else, never once opened up the topic in any discussion, but he knew that their entire career, each and every one of Umbrella's employees must have experimented on a great number of people and animals. Tens upon hundreds of thousands had passed in between their facilities and had each left as either a corpse or monster, whether they were alive or dead after that could only be determined by their work. In addition, Umbrella didn't own just a few laboratories and facilities in America, since being a pharmaceutical corporation, they were known to own a multitude of facilities in the world, not just specified to one continent and not all of them were devoted to medicinal purposes. Which meant that the amount of people that the corporation practically butchered in their T-Virus research must resides somewhere in the high hundred-thousands, if not low millions, and that would only count the humans they used; since the corporation used animals as well, they could either steal or capture as much as they liked because the public would be more concerned over the disappearance of other people rather than a bunch of animals.

_I can understand now why Marcus went as mad as he did. If one becomes too obsessed with this line of work, nothing but darkness and insanity awaits them._

Marcus had definitely been one to go over the deep end. He had lost track of everything around him, forsook all those near him and had kidnapped several people in order to feed them alive to his leeches, nearly enough drawing the public attention onto the corporation's secrets, all as part of his work on the T-Virus in order for him to overthrow Spencer, thus earning himself the wrath of Spencer resulting in his death by assassination from Wesker and Birkin, under orders from Spencer. It was obvious that all those experiments he had performed on those people, his obsession over his leeches and his paranoid fear of Spencer had been enough to make his mind snap, to change him into something as inhuman as the BOWs and clinically insane, driving him to the very edge of his limits and declaring him as expendable.

Wesker knew that it was the same for everyone, no matter who they were, because obsession was a poison, a danger to yourself and those around you, since obsessions can be twisted by yourself or another, resulting in the loss of a person's humanity and mind. There were no exceptions in that topic, nothing was excluded from this rule; if anyone grew too attached to another object or person, they would end up like Marcus, insane, inhuman and buried, sooner or later. Nothing could be done to stop it, once one took that first step down the dark road to insanity.

Hence why Wesker preferred to keep his mind and senses open to the world, to remain oblivious to other things unless it was necessary for him to focus on them, since obsessions and attachments had always been something he vowed to steer clear of. His career as a researcher was a good example since he was now reaching the end of his limits to work as a scientist and would soon need a career change if he wanted to remain of use with Umbrella and acquire the information on Spencer that he wanted; after all, he couldn't leave the corporation, not when Spencer held all the trump cards in the corporation and would be sure to remind Wesker how deeply involved he was with the company, who he was to take orders from now and that he had no choice but to stay. He knew that he wasn't innocent in any sense of the word, nothing could be done to absolve him of his crimes, that he couldn't just walk out of the corporation and never look back because he himself was responsible as well, having performed intense acts of premeditated evil and atrocious cruelty, placing enough of the blame on his own shoulders that meant no matter whether he confessed to everything that he, Umbrella and Spencer had done, he would be next in line for the death chamber that demanded his blood, the entire world looking at him in fury and righteous justice to see him be punished for his crimes, lashing for revenge to what Umbrella had done.

And there were a lot of crimes for him to be punished for if the truth were to get out, some that he had committed on his own and others as part of the large conglomerate which he worked for in a whole. What they were doing with the T-Virus didn't just simply break the law, wasn't something as average or common as a murder or theft in the world, it literally shattered the fixed bounds of reality and defied the moral ethnics of society in every possible way, both real or 'fictional'. What they did with their black project made Stalin's military purges or the Nazi's Holocaust look like a simple parking violation, made them seem like something that a person could just pay a small fine for and have it swept under the rug never to be spoken of again because every single negative word or term that Dr Samuel Johnson had scribed in his dictionary to describe how terrible something could be was most certainly applicable to them. Umbrella was quite literally the most illegal, unethical, immoral, unconscionable, unbelievable and unforgivable criminal industry that the human race could ever know in its entire history.

_Which is why Spencer needs to focus more on the dangers of this work if we wish to keep this a secret. We have to make sure that we are prepared for all treacherous circumstances and possible disasters that could occur with the T-Virus._

The sudden of sound of someone clearing his throat brought Wesker out of his thoughts and made him focus on Lord Oswell E. Spencer himself, who sat behind his office chair, glancing up at Wesker with his cold, piercing gaze from behind his thin glasses. It was just another of Spencer's rare visits and inspections of the facility's findings, which is why Wesker had allowed his mind to wander since he knew what the meeting concerned of all the time from previous experiences, but he still had to remember to pay attention when Spencer was speaking, especially if he didn't want to antagonize him.

Spencer held up the paper he was reading, eying Wesker scrutinizingly. "Is this everything?" he asked.

Wesker nodded and stood in front of the desk, looking at Spencer straight through his sunglasses into his eyes. "In regards to that paper you are holding, that is the summary of all our experiments here in this facility. The rest of the documents have already been sent to the board and most of the research data has been sent to Paris via the communications network. We only await for your inspection of the BOWs themselves," he answered, keeping his answer as short yet detailed as possible.

There was another point that Wesker found puzzling about the corporation's assets; the computer systems that it owned in each of its laboratories. For some reason currently unknown to Wesker, the higher-ups ordered that instead of copying the data onto a disk and having it mailed to them via their own private delivery service, all of the researchers had the express orders to upload all data on the communications network and send it to them through that. Yet the strangest thing about that was brought up by this question; who was it that controlled the computer systems?

Since he was Head Researcher at the Arklay laboratories, Wesker had often used the communications network, data archives and the various other programs installed on the system in conjecture with his work, namely to perform his own studies or to send off important data for it to be evaluated, but he had never once asked who designed the system, how it was made and who was the one in charge of maintaining its functions. There was certainly a person working behind the system, since every time one would use it for whatever purpose, a female voice would make announcements or statements based on their actions in order to inform them of what was happening in the facility around the clock, meaning there had to be an intellectual figure pulling the strings behind the computers. After all, a computer is merely a tool and what it does is what the user decides for it to perform, and with Spencer ignoring everything going on in Umbrella's work or functionalities, it meant someone else had to be working the system.

However, he had very little time to think about the Umbrella corporation's administrative businesses or mechanical controls, since he was far too busy with the T-Virus research, the thoughts over the dangers of the virus and discreetly discerning Spencer's true motives behind the project; with a lot of burden now put on his shoulders, Wesker made sure that he had his priorities straight as usual and figuring out the data processing of Umbrella's internal computer systems was currently the lowest on his list.

"How many of these BOWs do you have for us to use?" Spencer questioned, lighting up a cigar that he had taken out and placed between his lips.

"Six fully grown Hunters. We currently have them down in the B4 laboratories for you to inspect," he responded.

Spencer nodded. "Good. Very good. And I understand here that you are requesting the start of a new project," he stated, glancing up at Wesker sternly.

Wesker nodded, keeping his expression in its normal stoic image. "Yes. The research staff have recently proposed a new theory to test. Since the Hunters were created from fertilized human ovums combined with reptilian DNA to form the base-hybrid, and then T-Virus is injected to enhance its abilities, they believe they go do the same process again, but with different sources of genetic information," he explained.

"The Chimera project," Spencer said quietly, reading through the report.

Wesker nodded. "That's the name it goes by. But we won't be able to commence the project until you give permission," he stated.

Spencer placed the paper back in the manila folder and spun his chair around to face the window, the trail of cigar smoke gently rising from behind the expensive leather as Umbrella's last founder gazed out the window at the beautiful sight beyond. Wesker straightened his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, waiting patiently for Spencer to give his answer.

"I'll have the board discuss it in the next meeting, but this does show promise, so we may begin this project. However, I still expect you all to focus your current endeavors towards solving the problem with the T-Virus' infectious capabilities in regards to that immune ten percent figure," he answered, blowing a puff of cigar smoke from behind the chair.

Wesker remained standing still, nodding slightly at the answer and turned to leave, walking up to the door but he stopped abruptly, glancing back at Spencer. He knew that he had to be careful around Spencer, since he wanted to figure out his motives without raising suspicion and continue on with his research in order to keep Umbrella off his back for the time being, yet he knew he had to ask this question about the possibility of an outbreak and how they would have to take care of it if it did happen. And this was probably the best time to ask Spencer, since he wouldn't be around much longer.

"Spencer, I have a question," he said over his shoulder.

A puff of cigar smoke popped over the top of the seat in response. "What is it?" Spencer asked.

Wesker waked back over to his desk and sat down in one of the chairs in front of it. "I need to ask about you about something important. What will happen if people ever found out about our research?"

Spencer spun around sharply in his chair to face Wesker, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Why do you ask?" he questioned suspiciously.

Wesker merely shrugged his shoulders, ignoring the small sense of fear that crept up on him, keeping his expression calm. "Call it scientific curiosity on my part," he retorted dryly.

A few moments of tense silence passed between them until Spencer sighed and crushed his cigar in the ashtray on his desk. "Very well. If you wish to know, we eliminate them to make sure that they tell no one about our work," he claimed, pulling out another cigar.

Wesker arched an eyebrow in curiosity. "How can you pull that off?"

"We have several divisions in Umbrella, as you know, designed to deal with all forms of trouble. One of them, Monitor, is our private espionage forces, tasked with reporting on all of our 'business asssociates' activities, stealing data from other companies, seeking out potential candidates and eliminating any nuisances that crop up. They help keep our work a secret," he answered, lighting up another cigar.

Wesker shook his head slowly, finding that hard to believe. "But, if murders or 'accidental' deaths start cropping up in any local areas or cities, the local governments and law enforcements may get-"

Spencer scoffed, the smile on his face displaying that he enjoyed Wesker's lack of knowledge on the subject, which Wesker himself found particularly irritating. "They won't rat on us. We have far too much deep connections in all areas of the cities and towns across this globe, thanks to several large donations we make to them in order for their cities to develop and prosper."

Wesker folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, trying his best not to react to that smug grin on Spencer's face, his mind warning him of who he was. "If I remember from my law degrees and police academy training, bribing officials is illegal," he stated.

Spencer laughed. "I prefer to look it as, that old saying goes, 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours'. We make these large donations to every city in the world and then lean on them, sort of our way of having a debt repaid; Raccoon City is one such place, since it's because of our donations and profits that they have the Kites Brothers' railway line still being funded."

"And what about the world political stage? The President, the White House, the UN. How can you keep this from them?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Spencer took another whiff of his cigar and blew the smoke out, that familiar veil effect with the smoke coming up again around his wizened face. "That's where the board and I come in. As most of our board members are, in fact, high-ranking officials in today's political climate, we can manipulate and control everything that the government or UN does that seems...inconvenient to us, via blackmail or just simple exertion of power. For example, we have a member of the French Senate as one of our highest-ranking officials and the head of Umbrella Europe, so we now have firm control over European politics. And this isn't isolated to Europe or America, since we also have members of the Asian, Russian and African governments enrolled on the board, thus, if there are ever any risks from the UN or world politics, we can control them and drag their all of their procedures out as long as we want, if necessary," he explained.

After hearing those answers, Wesker had to admit that he did feel slightly impressed by the precautions that Umbrella had already taken in regards to their work and the possibility of outside interference. After all, with power and some key positions in the world's political stage, Umbrella could basically acquire anything they want without any hindrance or suspicions, and they could manipulate all of the political actions taken against them, should such actions occur. And Wesker was sure that this was the same with the local governments in each of the towns, like Spencer had explained previously, since Umbrella was embedding themselves so firmly in the cities' economies and lifestyles via the large donations that they had made to help assist in their productions, which had at least lessened the chances for Umbrella to be either discovered or revealed as the corporation could merely use their influence over the local authorities to eliminate any threats.

But that did little to remove the nagging fear and doubt embedded in Wesker's mind about the potentially hazardous circumstance of a T-Virus outbreak and the chances of such a horror happening under their command. Even if Umbrella controlled the law, politics or economies of the town, they couldn't literally control the minds of every living person and simply snap their fingers to encourage the public to ignore their work, since the general public would go into a global panic and a full-blown frenzied outcry for Umbrella's demise. After all, if the entire public were to find out about the T-Virus, they would immediately swarm towards the UN and demand for Umbrella's punishment, despite whatever methods or tactics that the corporation employed to stop them, because the governments couldn't accept a planet-wide riot and mass protest in the cities, knowing that such things would be terrible for them and they would turn their backs on Umbrella as a consequence.

Which meant that Umbrella must have a back-up plan for them to use, a fail-safe built just in case of the unsettling prospect of a T-Virus outbreak, excluding the USF or Monitor units, otherwise they would be in for it.

"What about the possibility of a T-Outbreak?" he asked bluntly.

Spencer immediately choked on his cigar at the sudden question and went into a fit of wheezing coughs, his face flushing bright red and a vein began to bulge in his neck, his hand clutched over his heart as he struggled to breath.

Wesker hastily got up and was ready to dash out the room for help, but Spencer held up his hand to stop him, his breathing slowing down to its regular pace, his face gradually returning to its normal color. "Excuse me...That had been...quite...blunt. I hadn't expected you to...ask such...a question. It came as a...shock," he claimed, forcing his words out through his coughing.

Wesker sat back down slowly, keeping his gaze on Spencer to make sure he didn't suddenly choke to death while he was there. "I beg your pardon, sir. I was just inquiring about the possibility of a T-Virus outbreak and how one would cope with it," he said.

Spencer nodded his head and took another whiff of his cigar, his body sinking back into a chair and relaxing, seeming to loosen up, and he blew out the smoke, the nicotine soothing his frazzled nerves. "I see. Well, as you are no doubt aware, we can't allow the T-Virus to escape the facilities in any way, hence the delicate safety measures we have taken, as I explained previously. However, since we can't discount the possibility of the T-Virus escaping and that we have already had a few minor leaks on our table, we have made sure to take the necessary precautions, namely with the installation of the self-destruct system into the main generators of all facilities we own," he answered, pulling a small vial with a prescription on it and popping one of pills in his mouth.

Wesker suppressed the urge to scoff at Spencer's statement of 'safety measure' he had supposedly taken, when they were working in an abandoned mansion in the center of a forested wilderness near a thriving city. If anything, the area the mansion was built in was less than safe. But then Spencer mentioned something about a self-destruct system and Wesker briefly considered the possibility that it had something to do with the explosions that destroyed the outbreak areas hours after USF arrived in those various regions. Umbrella, even with the control they have in the government, couldn't possibly have used a ballistic missle or, perish the thought, a nuclear warhead to clean-up the outbreak because the uproar and political scandal would have revealed them in a matter of days, so they had to have developed another method to use, one that would ensure total eradication of the T-Virus without being too suspicious and this self-destruct system was obviously sounded like the perfect method.

"Self-destruct system?" Wesker questioned, gently prodding Spencer to continue.

Spencer swallowed the pill and inhaled deeply on his cigar, blowing out the smoke and crushing the finished cigar in an ashtray. "That's right. Our final fail-safe measure installed in all of our facilities, developed by my old time friend and comrade, Sergei Vladimir, only to be used under the most extreme of circumstances. If an outbreak were to occur as you believe, Wesker, naturally, considering how much research and money have gone into these facilities, our first method of protocol is to attempt to secure them by having the USF dispatched on site to eliminate all targets and for Monitor to retrieve all of the research data, storing it to the Archives whilst they are also to kill any witnesses to the outbreak. However, if that fails and we can't possibly reclaim the facilities, we have to activate the SDS either remotely or on-site, but only when there are no other choices and if I give the order to do so," he explained.

Wesker opened his mouth to try to speak but then Spencer chuckled heartily, clapping his hands together once. "How foolish. Since all this prattling began, we haven't had a drop to drink," he said, an amused grin plastered on his face. "Would you like a drink, Wesker?"

"Coffee, black, no sugars," he answered bluntly.

Spencer nodded and pushed the 'INTERCOM' button on his phone. "Laura, would you be so kind as to get us a black coffee with no sugars and a glass of Chateau La Fruite, '37?" he asked kindly.

"Of course, Lord Spencer. Right away, sir," his secretary's professional yet polite voice replied, a complete contrast to the irritatingly overly-enjoyed tone and smile that Wesker had seen many times before coming to Umbrella.

Spencer then looked back at Wesker, noticing his calm yet impatient expression. "What is it?" he asked in confusion then he smirked and nodded his head. "Ah yes, the SDS. Well, the self-destruct system was developed by former Soviet war hero Colonel Sergei Vladimir and has been a main part of our systems in every facility because it is highly successful in eradicating the infection, fully functional, cannot be damaged or sabotaged and can be easily explained away to the public. According to Sergei, the system operates via a highly-powerful explosive planted in the core module of each of the facilities generators, which can be activated by overloading the power output in the generator. This triggers a chain reaction throughout the facilities' layout where all of the secondary explosive charges placed in every key point of the structures are detonated simultaneously. The result is an explosion of up to 2000'C spanning at a five mile radius and a total devastation of the facility, bringing the whole structure down on its whole weight," he explained.

Wesker arched an eyebrow at Spencer, looking quite confused. "Isn't that a bit complicated? I mean, you have an outbreak, several carriers and BOWs running around, a wiped-out USF team, the general public are getting angst and you have to evacuate any surviving high-ranking employees. Wouldn't it be better to find some way simpler?" he asked.

Spencer shook his head. "There's no need to think about it so much, Wesker. All you have to do is input your user name and primary password to activate the system. The program will then start to shut down all outer power systems and ready itself for activation in five minutes. It will then initiate the alarms and give the employees firsthand warning to evacuate to the nearest method of escape, namely the heliports or motor pools, this lasts at least two minutes. Then the system will enter the final phase, in which it commences the final countdown to detonation in three minutes and after that, goodnight Vienna," he answered.

Wesker nodded at Spencer's explanation and straightened his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, feeling slightly relieved and glad that Spencer had at least managed to notice the dangerous situation they were in, what with the potential danger of an outbreak, and had taken steps to counter-act them in order to keep their work from being discovered on the virus. The SDS seemed to be a very capable way of eradicating the infection, since the T-Virus itself (unlike its predecessor) was pyro-sensitive and could instantly be destroyed by burning the body of a carrier, at least if they did so on time, but that was another matter altogether, and judging from the explosions at the previous outbreak sites, the system certainly could wipe out all the carrier and BOWs in the immediate area without causing too much of a scene.

Although the infection and all evidence of Umbrella's involvement would be wiped away, the public would take notice of such an explosion occurring, no matter where it was located since Umbrella wouldn't be bothered to incorporate everyone in on their secrets. But that was where their influence on the local governments would come in, in which they would have the mayor's office declare that it was a natural disaster, an uncontrolled fire or a terrorist attack to the press and the police would begin an 'investigation' into matter, but they would find only the false evidence Umbrella would give them and dismiss the case into the stacks of closed or unsolved cases that churned inside the legal system's records. And if the case become an international incident and the UN started to demand answers on the subject, the Africa outbreak was an example because, when Wesker had first heard about it, the 'official' word was that it had been down to a rebellious faction of the North African Military as a part of obtaining total dominance over the South African Republic and an immediate global stir had been caused over the destruction of the farming village in that explosion.

As the Cold War was still in effect, tensions between USA and USSR were mounting, and the UN were eager to resolve the issue before it escalated into an all-out nuclear holocaust. However, due to Umbrella's influence over all of the political governments, they had been able to confirm their story via carefully doctored 'evidence' to support these claims and had already executed the 'guilty' parties to show that they were on top of things. And since the UN didn't want to provoke any further incursions or trouble that would potentially spark another war, they accepted the evidence and reports then dismissed the problem forthwith, giving not a second glance towards it.

Thus Umbrella possessed a suitable defense system against competitors, outbreaks or public inquiries in their work, and they had a well-trained special forces to take care of clean-up afterwards in case of an outbreak and a unit of highly-trained assassins to eliminate all witnesses to their crimes. In effect, the corporation's security was impenetrable.

_Or so it seems. I just hope that Spencer doesn't lose sight of the important issues about our work, namely the dangers of an outbreak and the research is costing us a lot of money._

There was a knock at the door and it opened up to reveal Spencer's secretary holding a silver tray that carried a simple mug of steaming coffee and a carved wine glass filled with a dark violet wine. She strolled confidently up to the desk and placed it down in front of Spencer.

"Your drinks, sir," she announced, nodding curtly at Wesker and strolling out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Spencer picked up his drink and took a sip. "Good year," he complimented.

Wesker picked up his coffee and took a sip, his mind already thinking over what Spencer had told him and memorizing each detail so he was aware of all the security measures when he would need them, in turn trying to solve any holes he found in it. The self-destruct system was certainly reliable to wipe out the infection, since it could reach a high temperature to incinerate the virus and spread over a wide range to destroy all escaped BOWs. The USF and Monitor seemed to be trustworthy, loyal, obedient and dedicated to Umbrella, but without having seen them operate, Wesker could not be sure if they had the necessary skills needed to handle those kinds of delicate operations, namely their assassinations or search-and-destroy duties.

But the one thing that Wesker was finding holes in was Umbrella's control over the UN and locals, regarding how well they had managed to spread their influence and how they had managed to incorporate themselves into the local lifestyles. From what Spencer had told him, it seemed that Umbrella had supplied several donations and briberies towards all towns in order to have them so dependent on the corporation that they wouldn't rat them out, instead helping to cover up their activities around the area and avoid suspicions. But that all came to how well Umbrella could shape the town, place itself in their favor and maintain the image of some sort of miracle company that was a benefiting source of wealth and health towards the ever-growing towns.

Big cities were probably easier to control because cities like New York, Vegas, L.A., Tokyo and Paris, because they were towns with big businesses, big companies and corporations that rose up to extreme heights in the business community, respect and prestige building especially for those who were popular on a global scale, meaning that Umbrella had an easier chance of acquiring a threshold of power in those large cities since they themselves were a seriously profitable enterprise. However, for small local towns like Raccoon City, the views were different; as they were thriving and growing from the simple farming communities or roadside stops that they once were beforehand, they needed to establish a solid foundation for a town to build up on and a reliable source of income they could use for funding, yet there was the superstitions and fears surrounding big enterprises, like Umbrella, that often made smaller towns reject them. Hence, it was necessary for Umbrella's hold over Raccoon City and similar suburban settlements to be air-tight, so that the public and local law enforcements wouldn't start asking questions, unlike the governments, who could be brought with either money or a display of power. And with the area around Raccoon City as a site for the development of the T-Virus research and BOW projects, this rule was imperative to fulfill.

"How is everything going on in Raccoon City?" he asked suddenly, doing the same he had done previously with the SDS.

Spencer calmly sipped his drink and stared at Wesker with his usual cold, penetrating stare, probably trying to discern his motives for asking so many questions. Although Wesker could admit that Spencer's piercing gaze still scared him on a deep level, he had somewhat developed an immunity or inoculation against it, since he practically knew whatever thought went through the last Umbrella founder's head, save for his unknown motives.

"As I said before, we are making progress. We have managed to place ourselves upon Raccoon City's local government, owning most of the city's council, press, health and economy. And since the town relies on us for money and work, we have already made some donations towards the town's future designs. But there are some slight problems that need resolution," he explained, taking another sip.

Wesker drank a bit of his coffee, taking care not to burn himself. "How so?"

Spencer sighed. "It's the police and the mayor we have a few errors with. You see, the current mayor and chief of police are some of those 'honorable' lot, one of those 'we don't take bribes' people, so we can't hire them over to us. But we can't remove them either by force, otherwise that attracts suspicion from the public, so we have to find another way to get rid of them."

Wesker, having studied law in his years at university, knew how the legal system worked and so knew how Umbrella was probably going to accomplish this goal in getting their own employees on the force and mayoral stand.

"Rigged re-elections," he replied calmly.

Spencer nodded, downing the last of his drink. "Naturally. We have the power and money to ensure that the elections go in our favor, and it'll be simple to ensure that our selected candidate gets put on the spot for mayor. As for the RPD, we have yet to find a suitable man for us and we shall have to wait for a while for one to appear."

"Who is your selected candidate for the mayor?" he asked.

"A simple electrician by the name of Micheal Warren. He was a key employee that had worked on the Kites Brothers' Railway Line and had been one of the main supporters in allowing us to finance the development of the railway. We'll encourage the public to elect him as mayor in next year's election and then we'll bring him into the fold as one of our key figures in the city, although we had best tread lightly with him as well, since he is like the current mayor, honorable," Spencer answered.

Wesker nodded then glanced at his watch, taking note of the time, and stood up from his seat. He had asked Spencer all the questions he wanted to and acquired all the information he had needed to know on Umbrella, but he had work to do back in the laboratories on the T-Virus, despite what he may think of it. After all, Spencer himself was the man pushing for the research to move forward and finish as soon as possible, and Wesker had firsthand experience of how disagreeable Spencer could be if he didn't get what he wanted.

"I am sorry, Lord Spencer, but I have important work that requires my attention. So, if you would excuse me," he said stoically, heading towards the door.

Wesker had just about reached the door and was holding out his hand to open it when Spencer coughed sharply behind him, causing Wesker to look around and gaze impassively back at the elderly man who sat at his desk, glaring back at him scrutinizingly.

"There's just one more thing I have to say," he stated sternly.

Wesker stood where he was, making no sudden move or change in his position, anything to show that Spencer was causing him trouble, but he simply arched an eyebrow in curiosity, remaining silent and waiting for him to speak.

Spencer's eyes narrowed to slits and he pulled out another cigar, placing it between his lips and lighting it up, never once moving his eyes from Wesker's face. "I understand that you have been performing a lot of independent research of your own wishes, correct?" he asked.

Wesker nodded. "Just a few little matters that required my attention. Nothing to worry about."

Spencer took a whiff of his cigar and blew out the smoke, the grey thin smog masking in his face in a shroud, providing that eerie effect once again. "So you say, Wesker, but I am not pleased that you have been making inquiries about our corporation through the system. You have been using your authority to gain access to sensitive material and data concerning our activities, yet you fail to specify your reasons behind this." He spun his chair around sharply to face him forward and glared at Wesker in suspicion. "Why are you making so much trouble?"

Despite the immense shock and fright he had just suffered, Wesker still managed to keep his expression as calm and collected as ever, making no move whatsoever but to stare back at Spencer impassively, suppressing all emotions from rising within him. "Scientific curiosity," he simply replied.

Spencer continued to glare at Wesker, obviously trying to read his expression and discern whether he was lying or not, his cigar slowly burning in his hand, giving off a faint trace of smoke, but he soon spun his chair around to face the window, gazing out the window at the beautiful wilderness beyond. A few more seconds passed, the tension and silence between them thick enough to be seen even through Wesker's sunglasses, but instead Spencer waved one of his hands dismissively from where he sat, indicating that Wesker could leave, which he did immediately, before his fear would act against him. What Spencer had said just then, those words and that glare he had thrown at Wesker was certainly terrifying, and despite how cool and calm he could be, it had nearly tore down Wesker's collected persona and threatened to let his emotions run rampant.

_How does he know!? How did he find out what I've been doing!?_

As his mind wrestled with that question, he kept his body walking at a brisk pace, his face as cool, calm and collected as ever, ignoring the small greetings that the scientists gave him or the salutes from the guards as he passed them by, occasionally reaching up with one hand to straighten his sunglasses. He strolled throughout the halls of the mansion, oblivious to everything else around him, and hurried to the laboratory entrance, his thoughts all running around the same point that had near enough frightened him enough for his composure to crack.

How did Spencer find out about his own little escapades? Ever since Wesker had begun to hold Spencer's motives and reasonings under scrutiny, due to his strange actions and blatant disregard towards the dangers of a possible T-Outbreak, he had decided to investigate Spencer discreetly, ensuring that he was as cautious as he could be since he was a Head Researcher attempting to investigate the founder of Umbrella's business enterprise and discern his motives behind his approval on the T-Virus project. Naturally, as he was still just a scientist, he had found little information to use and was denied access to the more classified data, so he decided to abandon his investigation temporarily, until he made his position change in Umbrella, and focus back on his research, in order to keep Spencer satisfied and placate him.

Yet somehow, either by luck or careful monitoring, Spencer had discovered that Wesker had been investigating him and was now probably holding him under more suspicion for attempting to access that classified data about him. But Wesker just couldn't understand how he had managed to find out that he had been attempting to uncover anything about him; he had been careful not to leave any trace of his actions and hadn't told anyone about what he was doing, although Wesker was never a man to work much with computers, so he may have missed something important on that which Spencer traced back to him.

_It looks like I has best be more cautious in the near future._

That was definitely true. Although Spencer knew he had been snooping around, he still didn't know what Wesker was after and had let him off the hook for now, due to his importance on the T-Virus research team, the efficient way he handled the Arklay laboratories and the progress he had made with the BOW projects. But he had provided plenty of warning that if he was found snooping again, then there would be dire consequences for him; Wesker didn't even need to think about that to know that it was true, since he and Birkin were first-hand witnesses of Spencer's cruelty and utter influence over the corporation they worked for.

Thus, he was stuck with his current career as the leading researcher in the Arklay laboratories, forced to work on the fruitless efforts of 'perfecting' the T-Virus, so that it could kill off an entire population in cooperation with Spencer's unknown goals, and he would have to remain focused on his work, leaving his private investigations into Spencer's motives behind him until he was in a more suitable position to acquire it without causing any suspicions for him.

_It appears that my career change is placed further on the back burner momentarily. Oh well. Patience is a virtue and good things come to those who wait._

As he planned through his future endeavors thoroughly, made decisions on what he was to be done and how their T-Virus was to proceed, he stepped down the fountain stairs, taking great care not to slip on the wet stone, and onto the elevator at the end, pushing the button to head down into the labs. Although he had made plans for his future in Umbrella's businesses, he had to focus on his present occupation for the moment and that meant he had to continue his work on the T-Virus, if only to keep Spencer happy.

Once the elevator stopped on the labs first floor, he immediately stepped off and headed towards the main lab on B4 level, his mind focused on the business at hand...

_There must be something in here that Spencer wants us to find. But we have checked everything and found nothing useful at all! This is a waste of time._

Birkin groaned aloud and dropped the paper back down onto his desk, holding his head in his hands and rubbing his tired eyes, feeling the lack of sleep start to lull him to fall into a well-needed rest, the effects of his morning coffee beginning to wear off. The B4 level main laboratory was empty of all life, except for himself and the BOWs currently resting in their sedative induced slumber, the rest of the science staff having gone off to get their meals and conduct their own research on the T-Virus. It had been a long and grueling day, like every day for the past three years, of work for him down in the Arklay labs, every member of the research team now forced to work on the T-Virus and it's mutational properties, under direct orders from Spencer himself, so that they could perfect its kill rate from the start of their morning shifts to the end of their evening shifts. All current additional tasks and projects were canceled abruptly, forcing all members of staff to slave away at perfecting the virus, leaving all other projects either stored away or left incomplete. And none of them could do anything to change their duties because none of the employees, even though they were pretty much ignorant and moronic about the T-Virus' potential, were foolish enough to complain or attempt to dissuade Spencer from enforcing this part of the research continuously when they couldn't retrieve any worthwhile results from it.

It had been the same results over and over again for all their experiments; they just couldn't have the virus mutate the last 10 and they couldn't figure out what it was that gave them this natural immunity. Even though the virus certainly began to infect the subjects and inserted its RNA into the cell to merge its genome with the subject's DNA, taking over its function, producing offspring to spread into other cells, when the offspring themselves arrived into other cells, they didn't perform the next step of infection. Normally, the offspring would kill off the mitochondria in the cells and replace them with a replica of itself to combine with the cells to produce enough energy to power the lower functions of the brain whilst bypassing the other vital systems, effectively killing the hosts, at least that was for the 90 majority. With the 10 minority, the T-Virus simply produced the offspring and released it into other cells, killing off the mitochondria and replacing them but, instead of the energy only being able to power the lower brain functions and motor neurones, the virus could actually power the whole brain without any trouble, keeping the respiratory and circulatory systems intact, thus the host still lived.

Once the T-Virus completely infected the host, it made no additional actions inside the body and merely went inert, thus killing itself. The infection in the host was still evident for a few more days until the host's immune system fought back and expelled the virus, resulting in only minor effects on the host itself, namely both the original external and internal symptoms, such as the fever, profuse sweating, itchiness, shallowed breathing and increased adrenaline, showing no sign of genetic changes or necrotic effects on the host. All in all, the host survived the infection and its immune system soon killed off the virus, leaving the person unaffected. At first, Birkin had found this incredibly peculiar and had wanted to study beforehand in order to determine how it was possible for the T-Virus to bond so readily with the host's DNA, but from all the experiments he had performed, he couldn't find the answer to it and would have preferred to abandon that project in order to focus on more productive research.

The Hunters were a perfect example. The project with the Hunters had been a resounding success and Spencer himself had arrived at the mansion earlier in the day to speak with Wesker about it. Hopefully, he and the board would allow the Hunter project to be put forward for mass-production in their other facilities across the globe. Birkin briefly glanced up from his desk and gazed at the six Hunters floating in the stasis tubes in the center of the lab, watching the BOWs float silently inside the green-fluid calmly, eyes shut in slumber, breathing slowly into their respirators and their heartbeats giving off loud, regular beeps on the life-support controls. At least that was a piece of good news in these hectic work years with Umbrella, that they still had some living BOWs with them to prove to the board that they had made some progress with the T-Virus and in Umbrella's secret biological-weaponry projects. In fact, the research staff were even considering another similar named Chimera and had already gave Wesker the suggestion to pass on to Spencer. Not that they didn't anything new to perform, since they already had enough on their plates to work from, such as the second-stage T-mutations.

Birkin shuddered involuntarily, his mind recalling that one time when they had made a crucial error in one of their experiments, one that had resulted in the deaths of three scientists and one guard, the screams and gunfire echoing from the dark corners of his memory, the images of that night coming back for him to watch again. It had been during an experiment on another human, a Russian man, from what Birkin had gathered from his frantic screams and begging before he was injected with the T-Virus, when Birkin and the rest of the science team had intended to uncover whether there was a difference in the virus' infection method between an ordinary human and one with the immunity in order to discern how they were to remove the T-Virus' supposed flaws. However, the experiment ended with the subject simply becoming a zombie as usual and Birkin simply did the necessary thing, ordering it to be disposed of and sent to the Treatment Plant, so the guards simply went inside and put it down with a spray of machine gun fire, or so they thought.

Apparently, no one had checked to ensure the zombie was dead, but it didn't move for some time, so they had all assumed it was dead and they ordered the guards to remove the body for transportation to the Treatment Plant, all of the scientists, including himself, ignoring the zombie as they discussed what they were to do next. But then, someone had started screaming and everyone looked inside in the lab, horrified to see that the zombie had literally returned to life again, and was attacking one of the scientists, a man in his late-fifties, the zombie ripping a chunk out of the man's throat and chewing on the artery within, the scientist himself gurgling and choking on his own blood as it splashed down onto the floor. The other two scientists inside continued to scream in terror as the thing kept eating at their colleague, making no move to leave, whilst everyone else outside were too stunned to do anything even Birkin himself, simply standing there aghast as they watched the zombie eat their colleague.

However, the screaming soon attracted the attention of the zombie and it had focused its attention on the other scientists, dropping hold of its previous meal, which had begun to spasm wildly and bleed out what was left of its blood all over the floor. The two scientists, thinking that the zombie would be too slow to react and had most of its motor functions reduced by severe rigor mortis in its joints, tried to slip past it easily without it attacking them, but to everyone's amazement, the zombie actually ran at them and slashed at one of the scientists, a woman, with its hands, hacking open the woman's throat and drenching itself, the woman's clothes and the walls in her blood. It then immediately spun around and lunged at the other scientist who had nearly made it to the door, dashing at him with amazing speed and sinking its teeth into the man's throat as he grasped hold of the door, attempting to pull it open as his fingers tried to grab hold of the handle through its frantic spasms from his main nerves and arteries being gnawed through.

The man's screams soon turned to obscure gurgling and bubbled in his mouth as blood began to run in torrents from his lips, the zombie itself tearing away his throat with a sickening wet rip and chewing on it eagerly with sharpened canines. After a few minutes of listening to the horrific sounds of the zombie tearing through it's flesh, Birkin snapped out of his stupor and immediately ordered the guards to kill the zombie; three of the guards went inside the room whilst Birkin watched from behind the reinforced glass windows, watched the guards kick the door in and knock the zombie away along with its meal, all of them pointing their weapons at the creatures yet none of them fired a single shot, all of them rigidly standing in place and staring at the creature. And when the zombie got up, in another burst of unexpected speed, Birkin could see why.

That zombie had been unlike any of the others Birkin had seen or knew about in his work on the T-Virus project; it was considerably and certainly a lot more dangerous than the normal ones. It had the same characteristics of the average T-infected humans, namely the milky white eyes and rotting skin, but instead of a sickly pale color, that particular zombie had a skin color of a deep crimson red that literally matched the color of coagulated blood, its fingers and toes had grown claws, and its canine teeth had elongated into fangs. It was a very startling sight and, after witnessing what it had done to the other scientists, it wasn't much of a surprise that the guards were scared of the monster; the three soldiers slowly approached the 'enhanced' zombie, weapons trained and ready to fire at the first sign of movement-

-but suddenly, the zombie astonishingly charged at the guards and leaped at them, soaring at least a few feet in the air before it landed on top of one of them and immediately began hacking him open with its claws and teeth, effectively disemboweling the helpless soldier. And the other guards stood dumbfounded and petrified at the sight until one snapped out his stare and opened fire, peppering the zombie and the guard being eaten with a volley of machine gun fire, exploding their bodies into a misty cloud of blood and shredded organs.

_And that was the first time that had ever happened. In all our experiments, nothing like that had ever happened to us; maybe because we never bothered to test that form of a theory._

But that incident opened up a new avenue for them, a new theory and path for them to explore in their T-Virus research. After the incident was cleaned up, the bodies disposed off and burnt, and the staff replaced, Birkin immediately began to examine the prospect of that second-stage infection and had conducted numeral tests using simple zombies exposed to higher-levels of the T-Virus, then he rendered them incapacitated, either by sedatives or severe wounds, in order to promote the change like it had happened before with that incident. From the results of the examinations and autopsies he conducted after each experiment, it was clear that everyone, including himself, had made a rather rash error in judging that the T-Virus simply went inert after it had killed the host and revived them into the 'zombie' stage.

It turned out that if an infected human was rendered unconscious and its brain was still intact, the body would enter a temporary dormant phase and take on the appearance of being dead, when in actuality, its body would begin to rapidly mutate due to the T-Virus' regenerative abilities becoming hyperactive. And, within the time-frame of one hour, the decayed skeletal and muscular system, which had been degraded by the T-Virus' necrotic effect, is reconstructed into a stronger and more durable form, giving it more motor function and frees up its joints from rigor mortis. Further development of the T-Virus' hyper-regeneration can be seen with the zombie's elongated canine teeth, newly formed claws on its fingers and toes, the major advances in decomposition on the host's external body, its eyes becoming fully white that no one can determine whether the host had any pupils in its eyes whatsoever, making it seem like the host was blind yet everyone in the Arklay labs certainly knew better. But the most gruesome detail was the fact that, due to increased adrenaline and the T-Virus enhancing the infected mitochondria in all the host's infected cells, the circulatory system is reactivated and commences its functions again in pumping the blood around the host's entire system; however, as its exterior skin has broken down considerably from the infection, most of the newly pumped blood is expelled from the body onto its skin, giving it that crimson hue. In addition, since the infected mitochondria provide a far greater release of energy, more of the brain's functions are reinitialized and the host receives more intelligence than the first-stage hosts, which bestows an increased aggression and agility onto the hosts, hence why they had soon gained the ability to jump and run. In contrast though, as a consequence of the rapid mutation from the T-Virus' regenerative abilities going hyperactive, cellular breakdown in the host reaches such a critical point that it can be permanently killed by extreme injuries to the body, even if the brain is left undamaged.

With all these findings from this new strain of infection in the T-Virus hosts, Birkin immediately submitted them to the board for inspection and evaluation along with at least three of the 'Crimson Heads', the nickname the staff had given them for their crimson-hue skin, in cryo-stasis for analysis by the other divisions in Umbrella's businesses. A few weeks later, the board replied about how they approved of the project and wanted the Arklay laboratories to continue research on the new V-ACT strain that they had discovered, and they had even made suggestions on seeing how much further the T-Virus could mutate its hosts beyond to a third-stage.

_At least, that was what was to happen. But instead, Spencer orders us to abandon all other projects and strive to 'perfecting' the T-Virus. How utterly useless!_

The sound of the lab door opening sounded to his ears and he looked up to see who had come in, a smile soon coming onto his lips as he recognized Annette walking towards with a stack of folders balanced n her hands precariously, and being the gentleman he wanted to be for her, he stood up and stepped up to her, taking a few of the folders off of her for him to carry.

She glanced up at him and smiled sweetly. "Thank you, William."

He returned the smile and shrugged his shoulders. "Glad I could help," he replied.

She walked up to him and kissed him quickly before she stepped over to the desk and placed the folders down on top, Birkin doing the same moments later. As Annette sat down and pulled out one of the pieces of paper in the folders, Birkin opened up one of the folders and briefly browsed through the contents.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Test results on the brain scans of people with this immunity to the T-Virus. I wanted to see if there was a difference in brain chemistry between these immune people and the rest of the subjects we have," she answered, not once glancing up from what she was reading.

Birkin nodded and promptly seated himself down in a spare chair, taking up one of the folders and beginning to examine the contents sternly for any of these differences Annette was searching for, his eyes darting over the paper in lightening speed and his hands briskly snapping the pages over to the next one, his brain taking in every printed word and number on the page. It was all just a complex map of equations, tables, graphs and charts that he read through many times before during his constantly repetitive experiments that he had been ordered to perform under Spencer's command, each of them listing the same results and findings over and over again that Birkin himself had found for every day in the past three years, and although he doubted that he would find anything interesting in the new results, he still felt obligated to examine them as part of his profession.

Seconds, minutes, perhaps hours, Birkin didn't know, passed by slowly and drearily as he continued to scan through each of the folders placed on the desk, the papers soon beginning to pile up into leaning towers of thin white sheets mixed with staples and pins. Occasionally, Birkin or Annette got up and left the room for a few minutes, either to use the bathroom or get some coffee from the canteen, but otherwise, they spent most of their time inside the B4 lab browsing through the tedious and repetitive files.

Yet, after near enough three quarters of the files had been looked through and examined, a short gasp sounded that immediately brought Birkin to his feet, knocking over one of the piles onto the floor, scattering papers, pins and clips all over the floor.

Annette looked up at him and waved him over, two pieces of thin paper laid out in front of her. "Come and see this!" she cried enthusiastically.

Birkin stepped around to her side and glanced down sharply at the pieces of paper in front of him. Both of them were pictures of a brain scan on two different people, each of them showing the multi-coloured images which displayed the areas of the brain that showed to have more T-Virus activity in them, namely the T-infected mitochondria providing the energy to power the brain. However, in one of the pictures, it could be seen that the entire brain was bright green with T-activity, in addition to a large white area having been revealed in the center of the brain, clearly circled with a red marker to show its place, meaning that the T-Virus was providing enough energy in the body to power the entire brain and all its functions in the body. Whilst in the other one, the brain's T-activity could be seen to be bright red in the lower regions whilst the rest was black with inactivity and there was no sign of that white area nearby, thus a representation of a normal T-human host.

"What's with this area here?" he asked, pointing at the white circled area on the picture.

Annette rummaged through the papers and held up one to his face, a detailed report on a examination of a hormone in the brain. "It's called the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin hormone, a special type of hormone released in the body during the prepubescent years. It seems to be a type of genetic trait in humans, passed through people with a specific DNA sequence, since barely anyone has actually recorded this hormone in any of the scientific references or institutions worldwide," she explained.

He placed down the report and looked up at her, his expression looking mildly puzzled. "But what does this have to do with the T-Virus and the host's immunity?"

She held up the scans for him to see, one in each hand, the one with the hormone in her left hand whilst the other was in her right. "Okay, as you can see, the T-activity is different in each of these pictures, namely one is fully active whilst the other has only enough energy to power its lower functions, which is aggression, hunger and movement. And you can see that this new hormone that we have found is only in one of them, namely in this scan of one of these 'immune' hosts," she began to explain, holding the hormone scan forward for him to see more clearly.

Birkin nodded. "Go on."

Annette placed the pictures down on the table and pointed at the red one. "This brain activity is obviously part of an orignal T-infected host because only the lower parts of the brain are working, albeit very powerfully since the energy levels are quite high, which means that this host will become a zombie." She then pointed at the other picture. "But in this one, you can see that the hormone is present in one of these people with the immunity and that the T-Virus is actually providing enough energy to run the whole brain, thus preventing any damages being caused to the brain itself. In addition, due to this increase in energy output, the T-Virus' necrotic effects are inhibited and the person stays relatively healthy." She then glanced up at him. "I believe that this hormone may be responsible for providing this increase in energy and the inhibiting of the virus' necrotic effects, since it allows the virus to adapt to the brain," she explained.

Birkin thought over what she had just described to him and began to pace across the room, rubbing his chin in thought as he considered all this new information and how it could be used in the T-Virus project. If this was true, that would mean that the hormone somehow managed to assist the T-Virus in infecting the host, allowing it to infect all the host's cells effectively and keep them all alive through its own energy, yet it also seemed to control the T-Virus mutational properties, acting as a sort of inhibitor to the virus' necrotic effects on the body, its genetic changes in a person's DNA and the damage it caused to brain. In other words, it preserved the person's health, intelligence and DNA, thus making him sort of 'immune' to the T-Virus by keeping it inactive in the body until their immune system could kill it.

He stopped abruptly, his eyes wide in stunned realization and his jaw dropping open in shock as his mind soon brought up a new idea to him, an idea that seemed to click inside his mind and resonate throughout his entire brain. What if they could control the hormone's activity? If they could somehow impede or slow down the hormone's functions to allow the T-Virus to spread and mutate the host in its normal capacity yet keep the hormone functioning whilst this was happening, they could practically allow the host to be mutated by the virus, to have its body and genetic structure changed to produce a normal BOW, but they could also keep the host's intelligence safe and intact at the same time as the infection was spreading, maybe even enough so to allow it understand and interpret orders in battle from the corporation. And, if they could study the hormone more and uncover its entire genetic structure for them to understand it, they may be able to find a way to mass-produce the substance and apply it to all of their BOWs to allow them to have intelligence to receive orders; even more promising, they could maybe be able to use it to actually apply the virus to a living human being and keep the mutations in check with this hormone, allowing the person to become a 'superhuman', for lack of a better term, giving him the ability to have full control over the T-Virus' mutational properties and keeping his brain intact to prevent him from getting enraged, creating an even greater form of BOW.

_I don't believe it! Annette has found the answer! We have fulfilled Spencer's orders!! We have actually found a way to perfect the T-Virus to a higher-level than even Spencer could have imagined._

"We did it," Birkin murmured and then he laughed triumphantly, feeling a wonderful and blissful mirth course throughout his entire body.

Annette joined in with his laughter and ran up to him, flinging her arms tight around his neck in a loving embrace, squeezing him tightly. Birkin wrapped his arms around her in turn and lifted up in the air, feeling his body endowed with a new-found strength at the joy and accomplishment he felt, spinning her around in circles, both of them laughing in merriment at their new discovery. They spent near enough a few minutes twirling in victory and bliss, enjoying the shared happiness they felt for each other and the fact that they had finally fulfilled Spencer's orders, until Birkin set her back down on the floor and kissed her passionately, enjoying the sweet taste of her lips and the feel of her warm breath as she kissed him back before he pulled away and looked back at the scans, gazing at the pictures in astonishment.

"I can't believe we've figured it out," he said in disbelief, amazed that they had managed to find out how to perfect the T-Virus, that they had uncovered the flaws that Spencer so desperately wanted to expel and would now be able to explore much more into the potential of the T-Virus.

Annette rested her head on his shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I knew you could do it, William. After all, you are a genius."

Birkin felt his cheeks flush red and he chuckled. "Don't flatter me. You were the one who figured it out. You're the genius," he complimented, turning around to face her.

Annette's own cheeks began to flush and she jokingly punched him in the ribs. "Now who's flattering who?" she quipped.

"You started it. I just followed suit," he retorted.

Annette shook her head at him and smiled. "Honestly William. You are a genius in science and research, but when you socialize with other people, you just can't keep a good conversation," she stated.

Birkin feigned insult at the remark. "Hey! I can hold an interesting and worthwhile conversation with anyone. It's just a question whether they will listen or know what the hell I am talking about."

She laughed again at that and Birkin joined in, enjoying the moment he and Annette were having together, as he did with each of the moments they were together, either as work colleagues, best friends or lovers. Ever since they had confessed their feelings for each other three years ago with that kiss in the winter, during that brief picnic moment they had shared together, Birkin felt like his entire world had been morphed, transformed into the perfect rendition of heaven and his eyes had been opened the true wonders of the world or, to put it more accurately, the color of life had been splashed upon the black-and-white canvas that he had usually envisioned the world as. That moment, when both of them had experienced their first kiss, when they had both confessed their feelings for each other through that small gesture, he felt like his pride and soul had been restored, that all his troubles had vanished and that there was nothing at all he could ever deem as 'impossible for him to do'.

With Annette by his side, he felt that he could accomplish anything possible. She was intelligent, dedicated, focused, had a quick understanding on whatever task he gave her and she never once missed a day of her work, always in on time, working hard throughout her entire work-shift and sometimes staying up as late as he did, both of them occasionally having to shutdown the labs themselves and ensure that everything was safely stored away before they left for the dormitories. The pair of them had soon become known as the perfect team in the laboratories, never arguing, always spending time together and working non-stop with each other on whatever they were to ordered investigate.

But they didn't just work well together as the perfect team and have what seemed to be the perfect professional relationship in their work because they also possessed a perfect friendship between them. Since they were both so much alike and could relate to each other about anything, be it personal things or a discussion about their work, many people would often find them sitting together in the cafeteria having a conversation between each other over their meals, whether it was about the research or anything that they found interesting to talk about, ignoring everyone else around them unless they were called upon, though Wesker was the main person to speak with them.

And their relationship extended even further than that. When they had first met each other on that heartfelt evening, both of them had noticed that something had sparked between them, an invisible yet unbreakable connection, which led their thoughts and feelings for each other to transcend further beyond from mere appreciation and friendship, and it soon grew to full blossom that both of them could do naught but act upon it. From then on, Birkin and Annette spend every one of their waking moments together, working in the day, talking with each other during breaks and sleeping together at night, relishing in their new-found love and affections that had developed. Both William Birkin and Annette Jenkins had become an inseparable pair, the perfect working team and romantic couple, a small light of humanity inside the vast evil and unspeakable horrors that Umbrella had created.

_But, I wonder if I should ask her to go further? Should I ask her the all-important question?_

Birkin began to feel a twinge of anxiety and timidness at that thought, his hand reaching down into his pocket to brush his fingers across the small velvet box tucked away safely inside. He most definitely loved Annette and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her by his side, either in work or at home, to enjoy the happiness and bliss that would come with their companionship, but he wanted to take it further, he wanted to ask her the greatest question that any couple could ask each other and hoped beyond all doubt that she would agree. The little present he had for her seemed appropriate enough for the moment, to represent how much he cared and adored her ever since they first met, and how far he was willing to go along their relationship despite what Wesker, Spencer and Umbrella would think about it.

Yet, although he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she returned his feelings of love and affection, that she enjoyed spending as much time with him as he did with her, he still harbored a feeling of dread and foreboding at popping the question to her, his mind reeling from the thought of rejection at what he was willing to propose to her.

"We should report this to Spencer immediately. He'll need to know that we have found what he was after," Annette suggested, jarring Birkin away from his thoughts.

He looked up at her and smiled, pushing those thoughts of proposition and rejection out of his mind. "Why don't we wait until tomorrow to tell him? He can surely wait another day before we tell him and besides, we will have to perform a few preliminary tests to ensure our theory is plausible," he explained.

A frown appeared on Annette's face, her expression turning solemn and anxious. "What about Wesker?"

Birkin's own smile vanished and he glanced down at the notes on the table, his eyes fixed on the brain scans and reams of paper scattered over the desktop enough to cover the entire stainless steel surface. After accepting and taking up the position of his assistant, Annette had to be introduced to all aspects of his work in order for to take in everything that he was required to do and what she would have to assist him on, including her having to be introduced to Albert Wesker, his partner and colleague throughout his entire career. On the surface, Annette and Wesker seemed to get along with each other, barely having any arguments with each other and nothing ever went wrong with whatever experiment or task they would undertake, but Birkin wasn't blind to what was really felt between Annette and Wesker; he could tell that, although Wesker certainly didn't show any contempt or resentment towards Annette, Annette didn't particularly like Wesker and preferred to keep their relationship with him as professional as she could, despite the fact that she often explained how much she normally felt nervous around him, more so than with any of the other high-ranking staff in Umbrella's employment.

Birkin looked back up at her and shook his head slowly. "He won't bother us. He prefers to keep to himself a lot and only speak with others if he deems necessary. We can tell him about our work before we tell Spencer, since we need to help run the tests," he answered.

Annette sighed, releasing what little stress she had in her out into the open. "So, what should we do then?"

Birkin glanced at his watch to see it was closing up to nine in the evening. "Lets go back to our room and relax. Shifts nearly over anyway."

It took both of them barely a few minutes to sort out all the files stacked up on the table and placed them back in their folders neatly, sliding them away inside the filing cabinet for study if need be, putting away all the samples and experiment materials that had been left abandoned by the other staff into their proper places on the shelves or coolers, and to ensure that the Hunters currently stored in cyro-stasis wouldn't wake up and drown in the fluid whilst they were absent. After that, Birkin and Annette headed towards the dormitories through the empty and silent halls of the laboratories underneath the estate, Birkin himself having to make a quick stop at the lab manager's office to inform of the Hunters still in stasis and that the technical staff would have to maintain their condition, strolling through the lushly decorated courtyards, occasionally nodding at the patrolling guards, and stepped inside the worn-down building of the guardhouse.

"I need to take a bath," Annette stated as they stepped inside their shared bedroom of what was once Birkin's old single room, now a little more tidier than he would usually leave it.

"Go ahead. I'll make some coffee," he said, shutting and locking the door behind him.

"Is that all you have to drink?" she quipped, smirking.

Birkin shook his head. "Of course not! I had some of your hot cocoa on our first date," he retorted.

Annette laughed once more at him before she disappeared into the bathroom and the lock on the door clicked shut, followed by the sound of running water. Birkin hastily took of his lab coat and tie, tossing them both over the back of the chair by the desk, and strolled over to the coffee maker, popping open the top and pouring in the dark black beans from the nearly empty beside it. After he switched it on and timed it to six minutes for some decent enough coffee, he pulled out the black velvet box from his pocket and opened it up, gazing at what he had inside.

_I am going to ask her. I have to ask her, otherwise I'll probably scold myself for eternity for not doing so when I can now._

The door to the bathroom opened up again and Birkin hurriedly placed the box back inside his pocket as Annette stepped outside, running a towel through her still-wet hair, her science uniform crinkled and creased.

"Is the coffee ready?" she asked as she walked over and sat down on the bed.

In answer, the coffee maker whirred to a stop and gave off a high-pitched ping, announcing that it had finished brewing the hot dark liquid. Birkin picked up the pot and poured two small cups of coffee into the two mugs sat next to it, taking them over to Annette and sitting down next to her on the bed, handing over one of the cups.

"Cheers," Birkin and Annette said simultaneously, clinking their cups together and taking a sip of the coffee, enjoying the hot and bitter taste as it went down their throats. Birkin then placed his coffee mug down and retrieved the box from his pocket, holding it yet gently in his lap, concealing it under his closed hands.

"Annette, there is something I have been meaning to ask you for some time now and I believe that now is the appropriate moment," he said.

Annette sipped again at her coffee and looked over at him, holding the coffee cup in her hands, careful not to burn herself on the marble mug. "What is it?

Birkin took in a deep breath to compose himself and let it out, clutching hold of the little box more tightly in his trembling hands. "Annette, when I first met you, I...God, I am not good with words than I am with science," he complained.

Annette placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, causing him to look at her beautiful face. "Its okay. It'll come to you. Just say what you wish to say," she said encouragingly.

Birkin smiled at her gratefully and took another deep breath before he started again, "Well, I felt like a new man when I first met you, a man who had found what was the most important to him that he could finally be complete, the last piece of my own personal puzzle. It was like when I first discovered science; I was captivated by it, by you, and I wanted nothing more than to explore further. And since then, I have enjoyed every aspect of my time with you, either in work or when it's just us together, I did really enjoy spending all that time with you, because you were the most perfect person to me. You were my perfect assistant, my perfect friend and now my perfect lover," he explained in something that could be near enough considered babbling.

He noticed Annette look away as her cheeks began to flush red with embarrassment, her eyes downcast towards the floor, but she soon turned her attention back to Birkin when he got down on one knee and held out the black velvet box to her.

"Annette Jenkins, I want to ask you this; will you be my perfect partner for life? Will you marry me?" He then opened the box to reveal a large golden ring inside, causing Annette's eyes to widen in shock and disbelief, the cup falling to the floor from stunned hands and splashing in coffee contents all over the carpet, leaving a dark brown stain in the green fabric.

"William?" she asked timidly, reaching out with one trembling hand to take the ring from the box, but Birkin gently took her hand in his and slid the ring onto one of her slender fingers; it was a small golden ring decorated with two bright diamonds and a twinkling sapphire, the jewels themselves placed in a small triangle shape. She then looked up at Birkin-

-and leaped into his arms, burying her face into his shoulder, sobbing in joy at what had just happened, her tears of happiness beginning to stain his shirt. Birkin smiled affectionately and gently rubbed her back, feeling tears of his own begin to seep through his eyes and slide down his cheeks.

_I did it! I asked her! This is quite possibly the most happiest day of my life._

"I guess that's a 'yes'?" he asked rhetorically.

Annette leaned back and smiled at him, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Of course it's a 'yes'. William Birkin, I would love to marry you, you arrogant fool," she stated.

"Lets get married as soon as possible. I don't want to wait," he claimed.

Annette nodded. "Yes. The sooner the better." She leaned forward again and rested her head on his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath. "I can't believe this is true, It's like a fairy tale."

Birkin chuckled. "I was planning to surprise you with my proposal, but I was unsure when to give it to you."

Annette chuckled in response. "Well, that was a surely big surprise, William," she retorted.

Both of them leaned back and stared deeply into each other's eyes, enjoying the sight of the love and affection they held in their hearts for each other sparkle like stars in a clear dark sky, but they soon closed their eyes and brought their lips together in a passionate kiss. To the pair of lovers, nothing else mattered but themselves and the kiss that they were sharing with each other; they didn't care about Spencer or Wesker or Umbrella or the T-Virus or anything else. All they cared for was the love they held for each other...

Several hours later, under a dark and clear evening sky, what little light there was cast down upon the Earth by the moon and stars, inside the vast wilderness of Raccoon Forest, barely any signs of life stirred in the silence and solitude of the graceful peace of the lush environment, most of the animals and insects having returned to their make-shift homes in order to enjoy a blissful sleep in whatever dreams that they could have. The only signs of life in the wilderness were the quiet chirping of crickets, the loud hooting of the forest owl, the constant flight of mosquitoes in search of sustenance, the howling of dogs echoing up from the thriving city just outside the woods and the occasional cry of a large bird as it soared across the sky, its dark shadow flashing briefly in the moonlight before it disappeared into the night.

But animals were not the only signs of life still awake and active in the early hours of the morning night-time. Inside Umbrella's secret and hidden facilities across the mountain range, a few handful of their workers were still up and about working deep down in the laboratories, fulfilling the orders that had been handed to them. The small number of technicians busied themselves with keeping all of the laboratories' machinery and technology running efficiently in the absence of the researchers, such as the Treatment Plant's vast connections and pipelines that transported all of the chemicals necessary for disposal across the plant, or the Arklay laboratories cryogenic stasis tanks that held the Hunters in their sedated slumber so that the BOWs didn't awaken inside the tanks and drown in the stasis fluid like the last time. In addition, the security forces of both facilities were wide awake, each of them patrolling back and forth across their areas, weapons loaded and senses alert for any sign of trouble, either intruders or escaped specimens, thus providing them with extra fear and adrenaline to remove the weariness that crept on them.

But, inside the dormitories, seated upright in her shared bed, the thin covers barely covering her naked body and that of her newly-wedded husband asleep beside her, Annette Jenkins (now with the name Birkin) stared blankly at the wardrobe at the foot of her bed, her eyes wide awake and showing no signs of drooping shut, her body unwilling to succumb to the tempting option of lying down beneath the covers and drifting to sleep. She found that she was unable to go to sleep, since it was the last thing on her mind, what with everything that had happened to her during the past three years, including William's matrimonial proposal just hours ago and other important matters that cried for attention, drowning out the lullaby of slumber from her thoughts. She looked over at William, who lay sprawled over the bed, snoring lightly in his sleep with the covers hiding his waist from view, his hair unkempt and messy, and smiled at him, stroking him softly on the cheek, her ring glinting in the still room on her finger.

She sure as Hell hadn't expected William to propose to her soon with the offer of marriage, even though she did dream for the day that he would have asked for her hand, for many different reasons. When she and him had experienced that short yet tender moment together, it was no secret that her feelings towards him had drastically changed from what she had originally thought of him and they both soon spent every minute of their waking time together, either working as colleagues or talking as friends, each of them desiring to go deeper with their relationship, but had been afraid of having their feelings unrequited. However, Birkin organized a small picnic for them on the western balcony overlooking the forest and they had both shared their first kiss there, transversing them from simple friends into a romantic couple, meaning they spent all of their time together, now even enough to...make love with each other.

_And he has just asked for my hand in marriage! It's almost too good to be true for me! But, if we are going to get married, what will Wesker or Spencer think if they find out about this?_

That was one of the main reasons that Annette was unable to sleep well, if at all, that night because she was feeling slightly pensive and worried about what Wesker's attitude and Spencer's reaction to their engagement would be. After all, since they were performing quite dangerous and illegal viral experiments, all of Umbrella's research team had to dedicate full attention and focus towards their work, in order to ensure that they obtained suitable results for them to use in their BOW projects, meaning that Spencer would most definitely be opposed to the notion of researchers, guards and any other staff members so much as developing a relationship with anyone or amonst themselves, especially when William Birkin was concerned because he was one of Umbrella's top-geniuses and one of the two Head Researchers in the Arklay facilities.

As for Wesker. Well, Annette had no idea how the cool, calm and precise business partner that her husband worked with and had been in cooperation with him since his employment at the old Training Facility a few miles away. Even though she had worked with Albert Wesker on several occasions with her husband on the T-Virus research, she knew literally nothing about him, about who he was except from what she had heard about him or how he acted towards the other staff members, although mostly, he was a complete enigma. He never socialized with the other staff members, never talked about himself, always kept to himself, always acted professionally, never showed a single emotion on his stony expression and paid little interest in anyone else's lives or personalities except when he believed it concerned him.

And to be honest, Wesker made Annette very nervous whenever they worked together since nothing ever seemed to faze him or make him react in any way. As per their research demanded of them, Annette had to take part, along with all of the other scientists in the laboratories, in administering the T-Virus into all manner of living things, including other humans, and to observe how the virus would mutate them in order to ascertain their effectiveness as marketable BOWs. When Annette had witnessed the experiment being performed for the first time in her career, she had immediately ran into the bathroom and threw up her breakfast, feeling sickened and shocked at seeing a dead person being resurrected by the T-Virus, and had been haunted for weeks by the image of those dead white eyes on a rotting undead face that had once been a living human being. Who had loved. Who had cried. Who had a family. Who had a life. But as the experiments went on, she soon became used to the guilt and fear that she felt at what she was doing for Umbrella's biological weaponry projects, and had managed to surpress it so that it didn't impede in her work or make her look like an expendable asset. However, it didn't stop the horrid nightmares she experienced every night after work, visions of deformed monsters and ravenous mutants chasing after her and devouring her alive.

Naturally, she had noticed the same applied to the other members of the research staff as well because most of them seemed jittery, afraid and downright tired from lack of sleep, less energetic about their work and barely distinguishable from the undead creatures they helped to create, except for two people who seemed completely unfazed by what they did with their employment in Umbrella. William Birkin and Albert Wesker. Although, having spent so much time with him, both before, during and after working hours, Annette knew that what they did really was affecting Birkin, causing him to feel more stressed and anxious about ensuring that he completed every aspect of his work that he deemed vitally important, rarely showing any sign of fear or apprehension at his work unless it concerned something terrible, such as what would happen if the T-Virus were to escape.

Wesker, on the other hand, never seemed affected by anything that happened in the Arklay laboratories. Whenever she would work with Wesker, he would always act so professional and precise with his tasks, always thinking things through and carry out experiments in his own way, never once losing his temper at a mistake or get angry at being disturbed by other staff members like Birkin did. Even when they would have to administer the T-Virus to other people and animals then observe their mutations, he never showed any sign of emotion, not even a flicker, on his face, keeping up his cool and calm expression as he watched what happened to the host as the T-Virus mutated them, his eyes peering out from behind his dark sunglasses to watch over the experiments. And no one could determine anything from him, neither from his face or his eyes, because he kept up his cool and calm visage every where he went, and had never once taken off his sunglasses to show his real eyes, practically sealing away all of his emotions for anyone other than himself to read.

Thus Annette couldn't really ascertain how Wesker would react to her and Birkin's marriage together since he rarely ever seemed to care about other people's personal lives unless it felt that it demanded his attention as on par with his duties as Head Researcher.

_Either way, I don't care what both of them say. I love William and I want to marry him. But not only for myself._

Annette tentatively placed a hand over her round stomach and stroked it gently, feeling the soft movements inside kick against her fingers. Ever since when she and William began sleeping with each other, Annette had spent some of her work hours away from work due to back pains, constant nausea and near enough continuous reguritation, thus beginning to impede on her part in the T-Virus research and cast doubts upon her abilities. Deciding to consult a doctor about her condition, she had requested to be taken to Raccoon City, since she didn't relish the idea of being examined by the Arklay labs infirmary staff in the same place that they experimented with the deadly T-Virus, and had left for the city a few weeks ago, leaving no explanation except that she needed medical consultation. But when she got there, she had been given a diagnostic that had utterly shocked her to her core. She was several months pregnant.

At first, she felt shocked at that news, that she was several months pregnant and was close to giving birth in a few months time, but had then began to feel slightly happy at the prospect of having a family, of having her own child to take care of and become an actual mother, to be able to start her own family and take part in one of 'the joy's of life' as her mother had commented. However, what little worries she had about asking for Birkin to marry her or how Wesker and Spencer might take thought of it grew exponentially because God only knew what would happen if they found that Birkin and she had a sexual affair that has now made her pregnant with his child, since both she and Birkin were assigned in the laboratories to work on Umbrella's T-Virus and produce effective BOWs for them to use in their businesses, which meant that all of their energy had to be devoted to their work rather than to keeping together a family.

_But I have to tell William. He has the right to know. I don't care about Wesker or Spencer or Umbrella or the T-Virus. All I care about is him and my...our child._

"Annette, are you still awake?" Birkin asked and rose up from under the covers to gaze at her, his eyes still drooping shut to go back to sleep.

Annette jumped slightly at the question then looked away, clenching her hands tightly together in anxiety at what she was about to say. She knew had to tell him about their child, about what her current condition was and how that might affect his work now, but she couldn't be feel apprehensive about what he would say or how he would react, whether he would immediately cancel their marriage or follow through with his proposal, or do something even worse, a thought she couldn't bear to think about, and she pleaded silently to herself that he would follow through with his proposal, if not for her then for their child.

She drew in a deep breath and rubbed her stomach affectionately. "William, there's...there's something I should tell you. About my condition."

William drew the covers further over to keep himself covered and he straighten himself up. "What is it?"

Annette sighed and looked at him in his eyes. "I had visited the hospital in Raccoon City in regards to my health and went in for a diagnostic. And they told me..." she broke of from her sentence and looked down at her hands, her mind struggling for a way in how she should say what she had to say.

"Yes?" William asked, gently prodding her to continue.

Annette took another deep breath and looked him square in the face. "I'm pregnant. With your child," she declared.

Birkin's eyes widened immensely that she thought they pop out of his head and his jaw dropped, his expression one of sheer shock and disbelief. Annette turned away and looked back across to the foot of her, releasing the deep breath of air she had been holding in since Birkin had woken up. A few minutes of suspenseful silence passed between them, the tension between the two of them running high from what had just been said and none of them made any sign of movement or spoke a single word until Birkin leaned closer to Annette.

"You're...!? How long? Is it true? When did it start?" he asked hastily.

Annette shrugged her shoulders. "Several months now. They say I'll soon be giving birth to our child in a few weeks time."

Birkin looked away and rubbed his chin in deep thought. "Well, I guess...we'll have to buy a house somewhere in the city and I'll have to...explain our situation to Spencer and Wesker. I doubt they'll like it, but they'll just have to take it."

Annette gasped at what Birkin had just said and placed a hand over her rapidly-beating heart.

_Is he really going to say...?_  
"What do you mean, William?" she asked.

Birkin looked back at her face with an affectionate and determined expression, taking her hand in his and placing the other on her stomach. "Well, if we are going to raise this child, we can't possibly raise it here, what with all of our work and research stored here, so we need to get a proper house. I doubt Spencer would approve and I'm not sure what Wesker would say, but lets hope that they understand and that they'll allow us to raise our child at the city," he explained.

Annette stared back at him in surprise, her eyes beginning to form tears that she tried to hold back. "You mean...you want to raise our child?" she asked in a small whisper.

Birkin nodded. "Of course I do. Naturally, I will continue my work here and I hope you will be able to as well, but I still am responsible for this child and so I should be around when I am needed." He reached up both hands and brought them to her face, gazing into her eyes lovingly. "My work is important to me and always has been ever since I started working with Umbrella, so I am going to continue my research for Umbrella. But you and my child are also important, and I am willing to sacrifice some of my working hours if that's the price," he answered sincerely.

Annette gasped and stared back at him, noticing the emotions he felt swimming in his eyes and the tone of voice ringed with the truth. He wanted to have a family, just like she did, and was even willing to spend time with them rather than with his work, one of the most important things in his life, on the T-Virus. Unable to stop the tears and feeling overcome with her emotions, Annette slung her arms around her husband tightly and squeezed him, sobbing quietly as the tears ran down her cheeks.

"Thank you, William."

William put his arms around her and stroked her back, placing his head on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Annette. We'll get married and then we'll get a house to live in," he said reassuringly.

Annette nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath. "This is the happiest day of my life," she claimed.

Birkin drew back from her and looked at her face, smiling happily. "And it's mine too."

Both of them stared at each other for a few minutes, smiling widely until they both drew closer together and gave each other a small affectionate kiss before they slipped back under the covers and fell to sleep, arms around each other in a small hug. In a few more weeks afterwards, William and Annette Birkin were officially married in Raccoon City's church, with flowers, a cake and everything that one could expect from a wedding; even their parents and relatives arrived to offer their congratulations and hopes that they would have a long, happy marriage together. The reception party in honor of the newly wedded couple was held at the Spencer Estate with all the staff turning up to enjoy the music, dancing and exquisite banquet that had been laid out for them, along with a toast towards their happy lives together and in appreciation for all of their hard work at Umbrella. The newlyweds spent a nice, relaxing honeymoon together at a luxury hotel in Florida for a couple of days until they returned home to their new home in Raccoon City's Cider District, both paid for by the Umbrella Corporation. And, on July 8th 1986, the Birkin couple were blessed with the arrival of their child, a healthy baby girl.

A girl named Sherry Alicia Birkin...

**Hey, everyone!! Hope you liked this chapter, since this is quite a long one because I had to explain how Umbrella's security institutions and systems work, along with the creation of the Tyrants and Crimson Heads, including the birth of Sherry Birkin and how the Birkin couple soon get married together.**

**I apologise in regards that it took over a month to update, since it took me some time to write this out, what with my exams in mid-June, my birthday at the end of June, my party and having to go job-seeking over the summer. I do hope that this is okay for everyone, especially to all of you who were kind enough to review and favourite my story, and I apologise again for how long it took to update.**

**Anyway, I am intending to finish this (THAT IS A DEFINITE) and try to update a bit quicker so no one will have to wait any longer.**

**Please read and review. And stay tuned for the next update.**


	37. Chapter 37

Thirty Seven

March 21st 1988, Umbrella Europe HQ, Paris.

Christina Henri, Director of Umbrella's Europe Division and member of the French Senate, sat on a plush leather chair inside her bedroom located at the front end of her estate, silently reading through the novel she had in her hands, a small cup of tea placed on the glass coffee table in front of her, the curtains at the large windows partly opened to allow in the bright rays of the spring sunshine, a gentle breeze sweeping in through the small open window at the top to make the curtain flap slightly, enjoying the little break she was having from her duties as Director. She had spent much of the morning supervising the experiments down in the labs a few miles from her estate, namely on the research staff's new approach to the Tyrant Project, ensuring that everything ran as smoothly and as quickly as possible, since Lord Spencer was expecting great results from this new project.

Ever since Dr William Birkin, Head Researcher for the Arklay facilities, and his assistant had made the discovery on the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin Hormone that was responsible for the T-immunity in hosts and how it could be used to produce newer, more efficient BOWs, Spencer had been ecstatic about the prospects that it would bring and immediately ordered that all of Umbrella's facilities commence a new project to study the hormone and all the hosts who had it in order to determine how to produce a more effective BOW from it, specifically one with the intelligence to understand, obey and follow orders issued to it by the White Queen from the higher-ups such as herself. Since then, every facility working on the T-Virus was focused on studying the hormone and how to utilize its potential for their BOW research, but due to further research, William Birkin had managed to produce a suitable method to use the hormone-evident hosts to produce effective BOWs. The procedure Birikin suggested to the board was to locate a suitable host with the hormone, inject them with the T-Virus and place them in cryogenic stasis in order to slow down the hormone's actions so that the T-Virus could mutate the host into a stronger being whilst the hormone kept most of its brain intact. And several weeks later, the board had been presented with the Arklay laboratories finished product when they had arrived at the Spencer Estate last month for the inspection. A 3rd stage BOW, the next generation of soldiers in war, a true testament to the T-Virus' potential. The T-001 BOW, the first ever Prototype Tyrant.

The creature itself was a marvel to behold, in that they had managed to produce such a being of immense power and strength using the T-Virus, but after they had witnessed it battle with the other BOWs in the testing room, Christina herself had to admit that she was very impressed with how the Tyrant had performed. The Tyrant had gone up against at least three Hunters altogether, along with a dozen giant spiders and a pack of T-infected dogs, and had practically slaughtered them all with amazing speed and the use of its foot long claws on its hands, showing no sign of pain when it was attacked and overcoming all opposition with relative ease. Although, there were most definitely flaws involved with the Proto-Tyrant due to its exposed spinal cord and heart which could make it susceptible to small-arms fire, and that its nervous system was severely damaged to the extent that it couldn't understand orders and would constantly twitch. In the end, the researcher's had to use an extremely powerful sedative and a direct Spark Shot attack to its spine to subdue the Tyrant for storage. Spencer, in conclusion of the demonstration, had ordered that all of Umbrella's attention was to be focused on establishing a way to preserve most of the Tyrant's intelligence so that it could follow orders whilst maintaining the Tyrant itself to be powerful enough to withstand gunfire. Thus each of Umbrella's Divisions slaved away for the past two years to create the perfect Tyrant, one that could fight without risk of death and yet obey all of their orders without a hint of running wild in a primal, enraged state, but no such creature had been produced so far and all of Umbrella's researchers continued to search frivolously for a new idea to use in order to make such a BOW.

_However, that will all soon change with the development of this new creation. America's Tyrant shall pale in comparison to my division's expertise once we have mass-produced these BOWs. Lets us see how McVarian's America Division surpasses this._

A triumphant smirk appeared on her face as she thought of McVarian's stern face breaking out into a scowl in recognition that he had been bested by her superior knowledge and control.. The other divisional leaders would naturally be aghast at having been outpaced by her and the European Division's success, but she mainly desired to see McVarian look defeated from her successful projects in her research on the T-Virus; after all, the American Division was currently the one mostly in favor with Spencer because of all the advances for the corporation that they had produced, such as the T-Virus itself, the Tyrants, the hormone and the USF. However, her smirk vanished to return to her usual cold and spiteful expression, and her thoughts drifted away from that pleasant dream when a knock sounded at her door.

"What is it?" she asked, making no attempt to hide how irritated she felt at being disturbed.

The door opened to reveal her Butler, Alfonse, standing in the doorway with a set of business clothes folded over his left arm and a silver tray in his left arm, wearing his usual uniform of a white shirt, black trousers, white gloves, black loafers and a gray waistcoat, her expression stern yet obedient as always. Behind him, Christina could see one of the scientists from the laboratories standing a few feet away from the door, wringing his hands together nervously, his black wild and unkempt, his clothes baggy and terribly creased, and his whiter lab coat stained with several brown patches around his top from coffee spillage.

Alfonse bowed courteously at her and stepped inside with a light step and haste that graced that of a large cat. "My apologies, Madame, but I have your requested outfit. Freshly cleaned, ironed and pressed, as per your orders. Also, Dr Dubois wishes an audience, Madame," he stated in his usual regal tone, indicating the scientist with a small incline of his head.

Christina sighed and stood up, took the clothes from Alfonse and went behind a large folding screen to change, pulling lightly on the knot of her dressing gown to shed it silently onto the carpet. "Come in, Doctor," she called sternly.

The doctor jumped slightly at her stern tone and timidly stepped inside, standing near the door for a quick escape if the Director were to get mad. "Director Henri, I have great news on the project," he claimed.

Christina slid on her undergarments and reached out her hand to grab hold of the clothes that the Butler held in his arms, Alfonse kindly looking out of the window at the beautiful day outside in order to give her the privacy she needed.

"Really? Do speak," Christina ordered, sliding on her skirt and buttoning up her shirt.

The doctor cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back. "Well, we have acquired all the specimens that we requested from the African Division and the sample of the hormone from the Arklay laboratories for the experiment."

"Have you began the experiment?" she asked, taking her blazer and sliding it over her shoulders.

The doctor nodded. "Yes ma'am. And we have some suitable results I'll think that would please you."

Christina opened up the wardrobe and pulled out a matching pair of high heels, sliding them onto her feet one by one. "What are these results?"

A triumphant smile formed on the doctor's face. "The project is a success. We have created a dozen healthy and fully developed organisms," he proclaimed.

Christina Henri looked up sharply in surprise and stepped out from behind the screen, dressed in her business clothes. "You mean...the 'Nemesis' Project has been completed.

The doctor nodded vigorously. "Yes ma'am. Twelve parasites have been successfully created and are currently stored in the lab. We intend to finalize the paperwork and record all of the research data for the rest of the board to look over during your next meeting with Lord Spencer."

Christina stared impassively at the scientist for a few moments then shifted her gaze towards the Butler who stood rigidly beside her. "Call my car. We shall head for the laboratory complex," she ordered.

Alfonse bowed his head and strode from the room at a measured pace, his muffled footsteps on the carpet disappearing as he continued down the hall towards the garage.

Christina turned her gaze back to Doctor Alfonse. "I wish to inspect these parasites and to read through the important details of your results myself before we send it off to Spencer and the board. This project has no room for failures and we cannot have so much as a single flaw to occur in these new BOWs, due to the stiff competition we have with the America Division's Tyrant Program," she explained, straightening out the front of her blazer and her skirt.

The doctor nodded curtly. "Of course Director," he replied.

A few minutes later, Alfonse returned to the her bedroom door and bowed respectfully at her. "Your car is awaiting out front. Madame," he stated.

Christina Henri smiled gratefully at her butler, the sheer gesture a complete contradiction to her normal persona, and strolled out of the room at a measured, regal pace, the doctor and Alfonse following behind. Out of everyone in her employment at Umbrella's European Division, the only person she felt friendly and appreciative towards was Alfonse, for his years of loyalty, servitude and protection in her entire lifetime and career as a member of the French Senate, in addition to her employment with Umbrella's Executive Board. When Christina Henri had entered the French Senate as one of the low ranking senators, she had almost immediately rose up to one of the highest ranking members in the Senate, due to her ruthless cunning, her vicious persona and her ferocious determination, in the process of making quite a few enemies. In fact, she had experienced three assassination attempts, two targeted bomb plots, four attacks against her in the Senate itself and one attack during a convoy journey.

Thus, she had recruited Alfonse as her butler and bodyguard, one of the youngest agents to be working at the DPSD (Directorate for Defense Protection and Security) when he was 17; he was an expert in bomb disposal, marksmanship, CQC, weapons maintenance, tactics and strategy, and firearms naturally, along with his degrees from the International Institute of Modern Butlers. Alfonse was one of the very few people she trusted and relied upon, for more than just one task, due to his skills and loyalty, and he was forever obedient and respectful towards her, always following her orders and willing to lay his life on the line for her.

_I shall have to reward him for his services in due time. But now, the project awaits us._

"Something on your mind, Madame?" Alfonse questioned stoically, tilting his head slightly at her in question.

Christina Henri shook her head at his query, more to clear her thoughts and focus again rather than to answer his question. "It's nothing. Let us go," she replied sternly, strolling on ahead of both the butler and the doctor, the other two increasing their pace to keep up.

As they proceeded towards the front entrance to meet with their transport, the servants of the household immediately greeted Director Henri as she went past them, doing their best to hide their fear from her by masking it with respect and courtesy, then hastily returning to their tasks before their employer could snap at them for laziness, and the security guards on watch inside the many halls of the mansion instantly saluted her when they saw her, years of military training and routines teaching them how to hide their emotions best when greeting their CO. The car waiting outside was a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class Limousine with the red and white octagon symbol of Umbrella embroidered on its doors and license plates, the paint and entire body car polished to a mirrored sheen that the sunlight glinted off the frame like spots of rainbow color. The driver, having spotted the Director, her butler and the doctor leave the house from where he stood next to the car's bonnet, immediately stomped out the cigarette he had been smoking and quickly opened the car door for the Director to get inside.

As soon as Director Henri, Alfonse and Dr Dubois climbed inside the car, the driver closed the door and climbed inside his seat, pulled out the keys wrapped along a golden key-ring with the Umbrella corporation symbol dangling on it by a chain and placed them in the ignition lock, starting the engine with one clockwise twist, the engine rumbling to life and emanating a soft hum, and he pulled out onto the paved road of the courtyard, driving slowly towards the gates as they swung open and allowed it to enter the small mountain road towards the wilderness beyond where the lab was held. The laboratory complex itself was a large concrete bunker built underneath a barren area of the woods a few miles away from Henri's Estate, surrounded by no animal or plant life due to it having been formally used as a weapons testing zone for the French Armed Forces, fenced off from the public by Umbrella controlled-militia and the government having been bought off from inspecting the site due to a supposed 'clean-up operation' that was being conducted to clear away all of the excess ammunition, explosives and weapons still in the immediate area. The complex itself was built at least a few feet below sea-level, accessed only by a small elevator in a small outpost at the area, installed with five levels of varying purpose and functions; the first level was the cafeteria and dormitory levels, the second was the security stations and secondary laboratories, the third level was the main laboratories, the fourth levels was BOW and chemical storage, and the fifth level housed the generators and the SDS. The staff inside the facility included some of the finest minds in all fields of science from across Europe, over a hundred security guards and soldiers, some of them having been served in the ALAT Detachment for Special Operations, and the basic commodity of technicians and mechanics to oversee the repairs for the facility's equipment.

_And I hope, for their sake, that there will be no flaws or mistakes with this project._

"Dr Dubois, tell me about the project," she ordered sharply.

The doctor cringed slightly at her tone before he cleared his throat and began to explain, "As you know, Director, we had began this project as an attempt to find a way of enhancing the current Tyrant program. Due to the T-Virus' mutational properties and the damage it can cause to brain cells, even with the hormone present, a Tyrant has a very limited intellectual capacity. It is effective in terms of combat prowess and target eradication, but it fails to understand complex orders and can only obey simple orders, such as 'Attack' or 'Halt'. Thus we began this project to interpret a method of preserving the Tyrant's intelligence so that it can obey all orders we assign to it."

Director Henri nodded slowly, her eyes cast outside the window to gaze at the trees blurring past the car as it drove towards the lab complex. "I see."

"We went through several numbers of choices in attempting to establish a method, but all came up short or failed dismally because the T-Virus' necrotic abilities still continued to degrade the host's brain and reduce the Tyrant's intelligence. In conclusion, we decided that since we couldn't change the host's DNA to adapt with the virus itself, we believed that we could create an organism infected with the T-Virus, or at least a strain of it, to infect the host's brain and maintain the host's intellect by itself whilst we control the host through the organism by installing a computer chip into the organism that has a direct link to the White Queen," Dubois continued, his tone filling with pride at what he had accomplished.

Christina looked away from the window and stared at the doctor impassively, her cold eyes empty and devoid of emotion. "And that's where Abigail's African Division comes in?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. We had decided to use parasites as the method of intellect degrading prevention. You see, parasites have the ability to control certain functions in a host by overtaking the nerve cells in the body and controlling a specific task that they are known to manipulate, such as the digestive or circulatory systems. However, none of them have the potential to fully infect a host's brain and every aspect of the host's bodily functions without intervention or resistance from the host itself. So, we believed that if we could develop a parasitic organism infected with the T-Virus and insert it into a Tyrant for it to fully control the host's nervous system via the brain, it could also prevent the virus' necrotic effects from degrading its brain too badly for it to understand orders. In conclusion, we created a new strain of the T-Virus by splicing a sample of the virus with the genetic codings from several variations of parasitic organisms and the hormone that Dr Birkin had discovered," he explained.

"And that was the NE-T-Virus strain?" she asked rhetorically.

"Yes. This particular strain combines the entire genetic make-up of parasitic organisms, each of the induced DNA strands having been spliced to remove all of the genetic flaws evident in their structures, and combined with the T-Virus to encourage rapid development for the organism and the common mutational properties to benefit the host, so that it can become an effective BOW in battle. However, we had to insert the hormone into the strain as well, as a way of maintaining our own control and direction over how the organism could develop," the doctor explained.

Christina's lips fluttered slightly as a triumphant smirk threatened to break out across her face. "And you have managed to create something from this strain, something we can use to enhance the Tyrants' intelligence."

"Oh yes, Director. What we have created is an ulterior mind for the Tyrants to have, one that the White Queen can control remotely in any location on the world and assign any of our orders to it that we specify, and the parasite itself will interpret these orders, follow them fully and control the host itself to utilize its full potential to complete them. In addition, we can upload designed programs into its mind so that it can utilize weapons that we can produce for them. In short, we can create the most powerful BOW ever conceived in Umbrella's history," he proclaimed ecstatically, his face lighting up with a wide beaming smile as he thought of how wonderful these new hosts will turn out, like a child who was excited about getting a new toy.

Christina nodded curtly. "Well, we shall see after the board and I inspect them ourselves for any flaws or problems that may occur. But we should first see your finished product and have an assessment of all the research data at the lab," she stated stoically, her eyes cast outside the window again.

The three passengers were silent for the rest of the trip, each lost in their own thoughts as the car continued on its course along the mountain road, soon coming to a large metal gate surrounded by a barbed-wire, electrified fence that spanned for miles, each side disappearing into the woods at each side of the car. Beyond the fence lay a large barren landscape, barely any signs of life at all in the dirt and sand, craters dotting the land every few metres, and away in the distance sat a large building, the sunlight glinting off its windows to flash at the car, imitating the Morse Code communication system used by the military. The gate in the fence ran along a small rail set in the dirt, with a small guard-box seated on the left and two guards standing watch over the gate, both carrying machine guns and wearing bio-chem equipment.

One of the guards approached the car and tapped on the driver side window to indicate the driver to lower the window and he began to talk with the driver for a few minutes, then he approached the passengers compartment and tapped on Christina's window to ask her to lower it. When the guard realized who he was speaking to, he immediately snapped a salute and stood to attention.

"Apologies, ma'am. We have to check everyone. Security protocols," he stated nervously, his hand trembling against his brow.

Christina nodded slowly. "Of course. Please let us through. I intend to inspect the facility. That is all," she ordered before she rolled up the window.

The guard nodded and made a gesture towards his friend in the guard-box to open the gate so they could pass before he hurried back to his post. The gate slid open on its rail and the car drove on slowly through, following a small paved road, that was made to allow vehicles to travel safely through the fenced area, towards the large outpost ahead. The outpost itself was a large metal tower built in the center of the barren area, an array of antennas and radar dishes placed on its roof, it entire walls made of large glass windows, with another small square building sat next to it and several tents pitched up around its base, where several soldiers could be seen passing in between the tents, either on patrol or carrying large boxes over to the trucks that were parked on the road. The car turned around the tower, being careful in avoiding the trucks coming down from the other direction, and drove towards the front of the small building nearby, stopping briefly at its entrance as a large metal shutter rose up from the floor and clanked against the top of the frame, and passed through into the large parking lot area. The car turned into a small lined area in the lot, a sign at its front saying 'Reserved for Director', and the driver turned off the engine with a twist of the key, stepped out of the car and walked over to Christina's door, holding it open for the passengers to step outside.

"Stay here and mind the car," Christina ordered sharply as she and the other two passengers got out. "I shall be back shortly."

The driver nodded and slammed the car door shut, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up as Christina, Alfonse and Dubois crossed the tarmac lot towards a small elevator set into the far wall.

"I want to read through the summary of this project in order to understand every aspect of these new organisms and I want you to answer every question I give you fully, nothing left out whatsoever. In the meantime, have the rest of the research staff record all of the data into the Red Queen's archives and ensure that all of the paperwork is sent off at once to the board for inspection at the next meeting. Is that clear, Dubois?" she asked coldly.

The doctor nodded. "Of course, Director. I'll prepare the data once we get to the labs," he replied.

Christina's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the doctor out of the corner her left eye, observing his expression become apprehensive and worried at her orders, his hands clenched together in front of him and his eyes downcast to the floor. Obviously he was bothered by something in the project and he was trying to find the courage to tell her about it instead of waiting for her to find out herself when she would check through the research data, but couldn't find it in him to tell her himself, due to the sheer authority and fear that he felt towards his employer's harsh tongue and grueling temper. However, she soon dismissed that train of thought as they approached the elevator; if there was a problem with the project, it didn't matter to her how she found out about it, but whether or not that the problem could be resolved, otherwise she would have to find someone else who could resolve it. This project would be a huge step in Umbrella's BOW projects and if this was a success, then Lord Spencer's favor would be taken away from Umbrella's American Division to her own European Division, where it should belong.

Alfonse pushed the 'UP' button and the elevator soon came down to their floor, the hum of its motor growing louder in its descent until it came to a shuddering stop and the doors slid open with a hiss to reveal the small square box. The lift itself was designed to take any employee to any floor of the tower that they wanted, but it was also programmed to take its passengers to the laboratory complex below if they knew the specific to unlock that route; the code itself was comprised of pushing the floor numbers on the lift panel in a certain order then to pass a retinal scan to verify if they were a registered employee of Umbrella. Christina and her companions stepped inside the lift, the doors sliding shut behind them with a muffled clamp, and she pushed the buttons for floors 7,1,2,5,8,3 on the panel next to the doors, each of the individual buttons lighting up when her finger pressed them down and, one by one, they went out again when she had finished entering the code the panel beeping in response. A small section of the panel opened up above the floor buttons revealing a pair of goggle lenses fitted into the wall and a miniature screen set next to it, currently black and empty, but the screen flickered briefly, the power and electricity coursing through its wiring behind the glass, the image blinking profusely until it sprang to life with the background of the Red Queen and a small Umbrella logo span wildly across the screen until it came to a stop in the upper-left corner.

"Please present retinal data," the Red Queen requested in her flat metallic tone, the goggles stretching outwards in response, complying one of the passengers on board to provide their retinal data for clearance.

Christina stepped up to the panel and leaned into the goggles, her eyes looking directly into the small dim bulbs inside, the rims of the goggles pressed against her brow and nose, her breath held in her lungs to prevent her eyelids from blinking. Soon the bulbs sparked to life with a bright blue light and shone directly into Christina's eyes, making her cringe at the slight burning sensation they caused as they passed back and forth across her eyes, scanning her retinas into the Red Queen's data processing system whilst the screen next to her was alight with a picture of Christina's bright green eyes, several small cursors dashing back and forth across the picture as the Red Queen matched her retinal structure with the data she possessed in her Personnel List. After a few minutes, the bulbs went dim again and a large green box appeared on the screen, the words 'Access Granted' written in bold white letters on the box.

"Director Henri, Christina. Umbrella Europe Division," the Red Queen stated.

Another small panel in the elevator's wall slid aside and revealed an additional set of floor numbers to choose, a small Umbrella symbol etched at the bottom of the new panel. "Please specify floor."

Christina pushed the button labeled '4' and the elevator began to descend, the motor whirring to life once again and the small box gradually headed downwards beneath the outpost, sinking deeper into the ground towards the large underground bunker that housed one of Umbrella's menacing facilities. As the lift continued silently on it course, Christina Henri couldn't help but let a small triumphant and arrogant smirk appear on her face at the prospect of what this new organism could bring to Umbrella's BOW project and to herself in Spencer's favor. This new organism would certainly enhance the potential of a Tyrant's effectiveness a hundred-fold, bestowing upon it the gift of intelligence and reason to understand any orders it was given whilst ensuring that it exercised no hint of free will or disobedience towards Umbrella's command, paving the way for even greater and more powerful BOWs than those Tyrants that McVarian's American Division had created. And once these new organisms were excepted by the board, Spencer would finally recognize who was the better person to have at his side, who was the rightful person to assist in her power over Umbrella's machinations and she would be granted the favor to be a partner towards Lord Spencer, not just a playing piece like the rest of those unimaginative wastrels on the board or those lowly employees in their facilities.

When Christina had joined Umbrella back in 1968, when Spencer had passed the offer to her and she had readily accepted it, she knew that this was her best chance, her only to finally be able to obtain the power of a key player in the world instead of a piece to just be used and thrown away like everything else. Even though she was still a high-ranking member of the Senate, the National Assembly and the French Cabinet, she had known that she had no real base of power in the entire world at all, no real control, no real force of her own will upon the world because, as she was required to know in her place in politics, there was always another person who held a position higher above you and that to get higher, you had to aim higher. But none of that had ever amounted to anything since she still had no real force or power in the world and could voice her own opinion across the diplomatic stage for speculation, and it would only be followed if others agreed with it, despite the positions she may hold.

However, when Spencer had arrived at her estate and informed her of what he was planning to do with Umbrella, of what he was aspiring to achieve in the world and how he thought of her as a suitable person to join him, she had immediately accepted and held no regrets at all for joining them. Umbrella was currently the largest pharmaceutical corporation in the world, with medical and drugs facilities worldwide, and an almost unshakeable global respect from every city and government across the Earth, which in itself was impressive but power in the business community was far too diminutive for her aims. Yet when Spencer had revealed to her the truth behind Umbrella, when she had found out about the existence of the Progenitor and the potential that it held, she had come to the realization that this was her greatest chance to finally obtain the place in power she had sought after in her entire career. With Umbrella's BOWs behind her and the power bestowed upon her by Spencer, she could finally establish herself as one of the most powerful people on the face of the planet, to finally be able to become a player and discard her degrading role as a mere pawn.

_At least, I will soon be once I have surpassed the American Division and gained Spencer's favor. And this project shall be the key towards that goal. With this project, both the Tyrant project and my own my power status shall finally move forward._

She snapped out of her triumphant thoughts when the elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor with a high-pitched ping and the doors slid open to reveal a vast square chamber ahead, illuminated by bright flourescent lights hung on the ceiling above them, pipes and wiring ran underneath the grated floor of the room like snakes in the long grass of the Amazon Jungle, all of them headed towards the several stasis tanks placed around the walls of the room and the large tank held in the center or to the life-support systems placed in front of them. Several scientists hurried about the room, each with either several stacks of paper in their hands or some bottles of chemicals that were to be filed away in the refrigeration units placed throughout in the room, none of them glancing up at the elevator when it arrived as they ran around to perform their work. In front of the tank in the center sat a small metal desk with a swivel chair behind it, stacks of papers piled on top and a computer stood silently beside them, its hard-drive tucked beneath the desk which in turn was connected to the large computer console connected to the tank.

Dubois stepped out of the elevator, nodded in greeting towards one of his colleagues as she passed by, and he turned back to Christina. "This way please, Director," he said, waving his hand forward for them to follow.

Christina followed the doctor at a brisk pace, Alfonse following behind, his hand brushing against the pistol he had concealed within his jacket in case of any danger from the stored BOWs, towards the large stasis tank positioned in the center of the lab, the lights inside the tank's roof flickering on as they came close, looking up into the glass to see inside. Inside the large stasis tank, immersed in the clear green liquid, seven small round objects swam around in the tank, their bodies being propelled forward by the small lines that wafted behind them in the water; they almost had the appearance of malformed jellyfish, except everyone in the facility's staff knew that they were not just mere jellyfish, that they were the key to unveiling the true potential of the Tyrant project. But, despite her knowledge on these organisms and what they were for Umbrella's BOW projects, Christina couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped from her lips as one of the organisms swam close enough to the glass for her to see what it really looked like, staring at it in surprise with wide eyes whilst Alfonse sneered in disgust at the sight and Dubois smiled at the creature; the organism itself was composed of a round ball of flesh about 30cm in diameter, speckled with bright orange spots that grew into giant lumps on its skin, forming what was to be its head, a yellow eye with a slitted-crimson pupil perched at the top staring at her with some unknown emotion, if it even had any emotions to feel, and a multitude of bright purple tentacles swayed from side-to-side underneath it as it continued to stare at the people on the other side of the glass. As the three of them stared at the creature, the parasite reached out one of its tentacles and jabbed at the glass, poking its tentacle towards Christina as if it wanted to get her attention and get close to her, but after a few minutes, it gave up in tapping the glass and swam away to join its siblings.

"Those were the organisms?" Christina asked, her voice small and quiet in the lab, barely audible over the hustle and bustle of the scientists around her.

Dubois nodded. "Yes. These, Director, are the organisms that we have created from scratch, that we have grown from the simple strand of T-infected parasite cells into a fully grown mature creature and the key to creating the greatest BOW ever. They are the NE-Alphas," he stated, his voice filled with pride and affection.

Christina immediately snapped her head towards the doctor, glaring at the man's back as he stared at his creations in the tank, watching their every move with some twisted form of joy. Since she was very good at reading people from their voices and actions, a technique she had learned during her days as a simple Senator, she could easily discern that Dr Dubois was very much proud of the accomplishments he had made in this project, which she couldn't blame him for, but the way his voice carried out and the way his eyes stared at his creations swimming in the tank, it was obvious he had formed some sort of attachment with them. And she knew full well that if any of the research staff begin to get attached to their work, they may soon get it into their heads that they can withheld their work from the corporation and leave whenever they want to.

_I hope that Dubois is smart enough to remember who is really in command here and that he doesn't think about showing any signs of treachery to Umbrella. Otherwise, I'll have Alfonse give a fond 'retirement'._

Christina continued to glare at the doctor for a few more minutes but then averted her gaze over to the large stasis tank and at the parasites that swam around inside it. Although he may be getting attached to his work, Christina had to agree with his pride for what he had created since these parasites would be instrumental in not just enhancing the Tyrant's intelligence and obedience, but would be a step forward in her ever-growing advancement towards her rightful position as Lord Spencer's right-hand in Umbrella's heirarchy. Once the board were presented with these parasites and all the data that accompanied the project, this would most assuredly promote Umbrella Europe Division's prestige in Spencer' favor and elevate her position in power to rise above McVarian's American Division. In addition, with these parasites, they could finally absolve all the flaws in the Tyrant project and create the greatest BOW in the world; a genetically-enhanced human being, immune to disease and gunfire, with unbelievable strenght and dexterity, along with total obedience towards Umbrella's demands without any hint of doubt or disapproval.

Suddenly, her memory recalled something important, something that could be quite disruptive or dangerous towards the project's credibility in Spencer's eyes and may harm her own plans as well. When they were coming to the laboratories to inspect the parasites, Dubois had claimed that there were twelve parasites currently in storage for the corporation to use, all of them healthy, but in the tank, there only seven.

"What happened to the other five parasites?" she asked.

The doctor snapped out of his stupor and glanced at the director, his expression turning pensive and frightened. "Excuse me?" he stalled, pretending he didn't hear.

"You said that there were twelve parasites made from this project. However, there are only seven inside that tank, from what I can see." She glared at the doctor coldly, her eyes narrowed into slits and her lips formed a tight scowl. "Where are the other five parasites?" she asked sternly.

Dubois recoiled in shock, stumbling backwards into the tank, his mouth opening and shutting with the motion to speak but no words escaped his lips, his eyes wide in fright and his hands trembling wildly.

"Answer!" Christina exclaimed angrily, causing all the other scientists to jump in fright and glance up from their work to look at the three people in the center of the lab to see what was happening that would cause their boss' temper to begin to crack.

Dubois cringed visibly and swallowed down the hard lump in his throat, wiping the sweat of his forehead with his lab coat's sleeve, and took a deep breath to calm his nerves so he could speak, his mind silently praying that he could find the courage to tell her what had happened. "We...we...we had done some-" he began in a quiet timid voice.

"Speak louder, Dr. Madame can't possibly hear you mutter, "Alfonse stated grimly, his hands clenched at his side.

The doctor whimpered slightly and looked over at Christina, his eyelids rapidly blinking so that he didn't stare into the Director's ruthless and penetrating gaze for too long. "We...we had done some experiments on these parasites beforehand, in order to ascertain whether or not we had perfected the growth of the parasite. I...I...I gave the order to use five of them with a different BOW each, so we could see how well the parasite could bond to a host," he answered, his voice beginning to shake with fear.

Christina folded her arms across her chest and stepped closer to him, her high-heels clicking menacingly with each step, her eyes never leaving his face. "What happened to the other five parasites?" she asked again, making no effort to hide the anger and annoyance in her tone.

Dubois panted in wheezy gasps as he stared back into her eyes, his hands beginning to shake uncontrollably and his head becoming drenched with sweat, several droplets running down his neck into the collar of his shirt. Everyone in Umbrella's Europe Division knew that whoever made the Director angry wouldn't last so long in Umbrella's employment and had better make themselves useful again before she decided to dispense with their services in a very unpleasant way; some of Umbrella's staff remarked that she was an even more ruthless and vicious tyrant than Spencer, but only a select few knew that Spencer was the real monster behind Umbrella's hierarchy due to a few shadow actions he had performed over his years as the Head Chairman. He slid away from Christina slowly, his eyes locked with hers, and hurried over to the desk in front of the tank, frivolously searching amongst the vast amount of papers on the desk for something important, most of the other scraps of paper fluttered to the floor as he shoved them aside hastily in his search. Soon he picked up a single sheet paper and held it out to Christina, who snapped it from his hand and immediately started to read through it. As each of the words began to sink in and her mind registered the meaning behind them, she felt her sense of triumph and victory take a nose-dive through the ground, her temper beginning to flare up once again.

"What is this meaning of this?" she asked through clenched teeth.

Dubois took several deep breaths to quench the fear that enveloped his mind and slow down his rapidly beating heart enough for him to speak calmly, loosened up his collar and cleared his throat. "Well, director, we had wanted to ensure that the development of the parasites had succeeded, so I ordered for a few experiments to be conducted with the parasites on different BOWs to test how well they could merge with the host's brain and, whether or not, they could be able to preserve its intelligence," he explained, wiping his forehead again, his sleeve becoming stained with sweat.

Christina held the paper up to his face, her fingers crunching the paper beneath her vice-like grip. "But these results all claim that these experiments have failed! What do you have to say to that!?" she asked, her voice beginning to grow louder, her tone becoming more angry and spiteful.

Dubois jumped and let out a small yelp at her tone, one hand clutched tightly over the spot in his chest where his heart was. "Well, the reason that most of our experiments had ended in failure is due to the parasites' rather narrow selection range for suitable hosts. The subjects we had used in these experiments had been a human, dog, lion and spider who had all been infected with the T-Virus whilst still alive, and had the parasite inserted directly into their bodies via surgery. The parasites were successful in attaching to the subjects' brain and manipulating their intelligence to counter the necrotic effects of the T-Virus, but the parasites themselves failed to bond with the hosts' bodies and had died in twenty minutes, the host itself dying in five," he answered. He turned back to the desk and picked up a small of papers, taking a few minutes to sort through them before he held them out for Christina to take.

Christina took the small pile from him and placed them back on the desk, sitting herself down on the chair in front of it, taking the file from the top of the pile and began to read through it. She spent the next few minutes silently reading through the pile of papers next to her, analyzing every piece of research data that was printed out on the paper and interpreted how well it could help with either Umbrella's BOW project or her own plans to climb Umbrella's ranks to the position of Spencer's right-hand confidante. It seems that, although the parasites were fully able to attach themselves to the brains of their hosts and manipulate their intelligence to protect them from the necrotic effects of the T-Virus, they were actually highly unstable and their bodies were incredibly fragile, thus they would immediately break down if they couldn't find a suitable host. In turn, they needed to form a perfect adaption with the hosts' body and genetic structure in order to keep themselves alive inside the hosts, whilst they continued to protect and manipulate the hosts' intelligence as the T-Virus caused the parasites own body to grow larger and further mutate the host.

These bodily mutations were the key problem in the parasites' capabilities as effective BOWs because, when the parasites merge with the brain to protect the host's intellect, the T-Virus continues to mutate the host and eventually re-activates the mutational properties inside the parasite itself by causing the T-Virus' cells in the parasite's body to mutate further, in turn the parasite develops to a larger form; however, if the parasite hasn't managed to adapt fully with the host's body and DNA structure, it would be unable to control the mutations in itself and the host, so the parasite eventually dies out from a cellular breakdown in its DNA due to extreme mitosis, and the host soon follows as the brain deteriorates beyond repair without the parasite protecting it.

And this was what had happened in all of the subjects; each of the experiments had ended in failure due to the parasite having broken down inside the hosts and the T-Virus having destroyed all the brain cells beyond repair. In conclusion, it seemed that in order for the parasite to maintain the intelligence of their hosts, they needed to be able to bond with a suitable host that could maintain its own form as the T-Virus mutates its body, whilst the parasite protects the host's intelligence from the necrotic effects the T-Virus causes to brain cells. However, the chances of finding such a host to bond with the parasites was even slimmer than being able to track more suitable candidates for the Tyrant project, namely those people who had the genetic trait to produce the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin Hormone.

Christina sighed and slammed the paper back on the desk, the loud thwack sound causing everybody, except for Alfonse who stood quietly at his employer's side, in the room to cringe in fright before they hastily returned to their work so they wouldn't have to face their boss' currently hostile demeanor. So much for being able to create the greatest BOW ever. Even though the parasite itself was a success and would certainly be beneficial towards Umbrella's endeavors in their BOW research, the fact that the possibility of finding a suitable host for them to adapt with was so low, and that they wouldn't be able to survive for long without a suitable host, made their capabilities as effective BOWs very questionable and the project itself would probably be terminated, even though they had managed to find a way to stabilize the Tyrant's intellect for it to obey orders. Despite the fact that Spencer did at least have a scientific background from his university years and knew enough about science to understand everything that was happening with the T-Virus research, he was a bereaucrat and a businessman first and foremost, just like Christina and the others on the board, so he was more focused on how profitable the projects would be towards Umbrella and how fast they would be able to produce results, so he would have no qualms on having the Nemesis Project terminated when he and the board reviewed over the results, meaning that the European Division would still be lacking far behind the American Division, and Christina's own plans would be delayed even further.

_Dammit! Sometimes I wonder if we will ever actually be able to accomplish anything with our research. All we do is come into one problem after another after another after another._

She held her head in her hands and gazed down at the table in exhaustion, her fingers gently massaging her temples to relieve her stress and frustration that had begun to set in, forming a migraine that was definitely going to be painful. Suddenly, she noticed something on the piece of paper she was leaning on, something that sparked her curiosity. She sat back up straight, picked up the piece of paper and began to read it; as she skimmed through it, Dubois walked up to her side and read the file over her shoulder, leaning in slightly to get a better look.

A smile perched on his lips, but it quickly vanished; last thing he wanted was to antagonize his boss again. "That was where we had used the fifth parasite," he stated as calmly as he could.

Christina spun around in the chair to face him, her eyes cold and stern. "Really. Well then, please explain this," she ordered, her finger tapping the bottom of the file which read in big, bold red letters 'Placed under observation'.

"Well, that was because we had actually got somewhere with the project. After the other experiments failed, we had attempted to use a Hunter for the next subject for the parasite and we believed that maybe another BOW could be suitable to hold the parasite. The experiment was a success and the parasite merged without trouble, but the T-Virus' mutational properties began to affect it again and we were afraid it would die like the others had. However, although the body was unable to support the parasite, we had managed to succeed in prolonging the subject's life long enough for us to store it in stasis so we could examine it," he explained.

Christina nodded, her eyes betraying no glimpse of emotion as she placed the paper back down on the desk behind her then folded her arms across her chest and one leg over the other. "What did you discover?"

Dubois pursed his lips and ran a hand through his ruffled hair. "We had conducted several tests and had discovered something worthwhile, at least in our opinions. Apparently, when the parasite attaches to a host's brain, it release a chemical into the brain to stop the T-Virus' necrotic effects as it begins to manipulate the host's intelligence. It turns out that, in every subject that we had inflicted the parasite upon had developed this chemical in their brains, which kept their intellectual capacities stable and protected their brain cells from the T-Virus' necrotic capabilities, until the parasite itself begins to break down and die," he answered.

Christina made no response to his answer and simply stared back at him, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. "How will this aid our research?"

Dubois' face soon broke out in a triumphant smirk that Christina felt incredibly irritated by yet she made no motion to stop him. "Well, this chemical can actually be combined with the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin Hormone to form a more potent and stable chemical for us to use in the Tyrant project. Apparently, it is able to provide much better protection against the T-Virus, even at sub-artic temperatures in cryo-stasis, so it can preserve more of a Tyrant's brain and intelligence for it to obey orders," he explained proudly.

Christina glanced around the BOW storage area for any sign of the Nemesis-Hunter in stasis, but it didn't seem to be in any of the stasis tanks in the room. "Where is the Hunter in question?" she asked.

Dubois held out a finger and pointed upwards with it. "Upstairs in the main laboratories. They are conducting tests with this new chemical in order to find out how we are to produce this chemical faster, how well this chemical can really perform under different conditions and how much of the chemical should we use in the Tyrant project to produce effective BOWs that can understand orders without independent thought, and they are using the Hunter as the subject for these experiments," he explained.

Christina nodded, feeing her frustration subside a bit at this news, but she could still feel lingering in her mind, making a head feel slightly sore. At least they had something to work with that could help the Tyrant project move along, something that may help to keep the Nemesis project from being disbanded by Spencer. Once the board read through all the data on this new chemical and the Nemesis-Hunter, they might be lenient enough to allow the project to continue in order for them to produce more of this chemical to be used in the Tyrant project; hopefully, once the research staff had found out how well the chemical works and how it should be used in the Tyrant project, they may be able to create a more powerful and obedient generation of Tyrants, and could finally be able to overcome that large obstacle that was causing the project to fail. However, she would have to be quite persuasive and prepared to defend the project in the meeting with the board, since the parasites, even though were a success themselves, were even more selective about their hosts, were highly unstable and could die without a suitable host, and that they had only half a dozen left to use, Spencer may consider the project a failure and decide to abandon the entire endeavor to focus on something else.

Christina sighed in exasperation and got to her feet, straightening out. There was nothing more she could do now, except to have the scientists collect all the computer and written data, then have it all sent off to the board for their next meeting to discuss it. Besides, she had other duties that demanded her attention as the Director of Umbrella's European Division and she had to get back to them as soon as possible.

"I would like you and your staff to gather up all the written data and have it sent off to the board as quickly as possible, to upload all the computer data to the Red Queen's archives and to keep me updated on whatever happens in this project. If we can find another breakthrough for the Tyrant project or a more suitable hosts for the parasites, then we can hopefully get the research moving forward again," she ordered.

Dubois nodded vigorously. "Of course, director. Anything else?"

She shook her head and walked towards the elevator, Alfonse following behind her, stepped inside and pushed the button for the parking garage. As the lift went on its way, she glanced at Alfonse's reflection in the metal sternly, her butler staring back at her impassively. "When we return, contact Lord Spencer immediately and inform him that we have discovered a method to improve the intellects of the Tyrants," she ordered.

Alfonse nodded curtly. "Yes, ma'am."

The lift soon came to a stop and Christina marched out towards her car, the driver again hastily putting out his cigarette before he opened the car door for her. There was no time now to dwell on the Nemesis project or the T-Virus research; there were other important businesses at hand that she needed to do for Umbrella and she had no time to waste in getting the job done right. The scientists would be able to handle the experiments and get all of the data sent off in time, but she couldn't be sure whether or not Dubois would leave anything out of it since he was growing attached to his work. He had better remember who the rea powers in Umbrella were and who it was he answered to do in regards to how he had gotten involved with the T-Virus in the first place, otherwise they would have to dispense with his services and find a better replacement.

She climbed inside the car, Alfonse climbing in the other side, and the door slammed shut behind her before the driver got inside behind the wheel and started the car. The car reversed out of its parking space and drove out through the entrance when the shutters slid open, traveling along the road back to Christina's estate, leaving the large outpost them, a dark monolith to what Umbrella was responsible for and the horrors that they had created through their lust for power and greed...

"It's magnificent! Isn't it, Dr Wesker?" Sarton asked in a small voice, his eyes wide in awe and his arms stretched out as if to hug it.

Wesker nodded slightly at that question as he gazed up at the large stasis tank in front of him inside the B4 level of the Arklay labs, observing the giant figure nestled inside it, sleeping peacefully in its sedative-induced slumber. Finally, after ten years of long arduous research, of having to work through Spencer's impossible demands and enduring the downfall of the laboratories caused by Birkin's irrational jealousy when Alexia had arrived, after ten long years slaving away underneath the Spencer Estate in futile attempts to remove the 'flaws' in the T-Virus, the Arklay research staff had now reached the third stage of their research; a fully developed and healthy Tyrant, the T-002 model.

Wesker stepped up closer to the tank to see it better, his eyes staring at it behind his black sunglasses as he moved forward calmly; there was no danger of it waking up since they were pumping full of sedatives hourly to ensure that it stayed asleep. The Tyrant itself looked vaguely humanoid in appearance since it had a large muscular build and that some parts of its body, such as the head, right arm, legs and torso, still resembled that of a normal male human. However, despite these human traits, it was still obviously clear to see the effects that the T-Virus had caused on it during its suspension in cryo-stasis. Its body had grown to a height of around eight feet, its entire figure nearly reaching to touch the roof of the tank, had lost all of its hair on every area of its body, its skin having become deadly-white from its loss of skin pigmentation and its sexual organs had introverted into its body from the extreme mutations brought on by the virus, making it seem like a giant albino-behemoth.

Its left arm had sprouted foot-long claws that seemed to glow darkly inside the pale-green fluid of the tank, its fingertips having healed and formed dark-brown scabs around the area where the claws had developed. Several necrotic malformations had grown on its right thigh, the skin looking like the effects of the smallpox virus or a severe case of Bubonic plague with the bright orange lumps forming a large circle on its thigh. Its lips had rotted away to reveal its bright-red gums and the veins that flowed through its mouth, all its teeth revealed and glinting in the fluid, its expression looking like some kind of twisted grin of humor. And its heart protruded from behind its rib-cage, its pale transparent flesh rippling as the large bulbous mass continued to pump blood around its body, the chest rising and falling as the organ pounded away.

Wesker, despite his usual calm and collected persona, found that he shared the same mixture of pride and triumph that Dr Sarton felt as he gazed at the sleeping monster, watching it sleep quietly inside the tank. After many years of failures, drawbacks, problems and delays, they had managed to accomplish the tasks that had been handed to them, to create a true BOW, a super-soldier (for lack of a better term) that was impervious to gunfire, possessed incredible strength and speed, and could follow any orders it was given to by Umbrella, along with the intelligence to understand it. This was what Umbrella and Spencer had wanted along, what they had constantly desired to own from the T-Virus research, what they had persistently sought for through their stubborn demands and what they had hoped to be able to control. Now, they had a fully-functional, highly effective and incredibly powerful BOW to use in combat that would strictly obey all commands it was given, that could conquer any obstacle and succeed in any mission it was given without any danger or trouble. It was a true monster of warfare and would certainly be instrumental in future research on the T-Virus. But, there were definitely some flaws to be seen in this new Tyrant model that might affect its credibility and potential in combat, especially when concerning the heart, because, as it was partially exposed from behind its chest and rib cage, it presented a very vulnerable point that might endanger the Tyrant itself, even from small-arms fire.

Although, when compared to the original Proto-Tyrant, it was much a more suitable and superior BOW for Umbrella to use in either research or combat, since the Proto-Tyrant was too far degraded to be of any use, due to its exposed heart, spine and its damaged nerve system, leaving it rather uncoordinated and susceptible to primitive behavior, or more technically, it slaughtered anything that got in its way, deeming it useless for any purpose whatsoever. Thus, Spencer had ordered that the Proto-Tyrant be sent to the Treatment Plant to be disposed off, since it had no further use in their work, and that all of Umbrella's intentions be focused on the production of more Tyrants, and to find out a way to preserve the Tyrant's intelligence during the T-Virus infection.

_However, that is easier said than done. As always, there is another problem just around the corner after we conquer the first one._

Wesker sighed in exasperation, rubbing his eyes for a moment before he turned away from the Tyrant and sat down in the chair in front of the life-support console connected to the tank, gazing at the Tyrant's physiological readouts playing out on the screen blankly as his mind went through all the problems that they were now going to have to deal with in the Tyrant Project. As they had discovered years ago, back when Wesker and Birkin had started their careers in Umbrella's inner-machinations, the T-Virus, despite its ability to infect and mutate all living species on the planet, could only infect 90 of a human population and bring them back as the traditional 'zombie' form which they had seen many times, whilst the other 10 were unaffected by the virus' mutational properties, even if they were directly bitten by a BOW. At first, Wesker had ignored this problem and had went to Spencer with his findings to explain how well the T-Virus would be as a marketable biological weapon, but Spencer thought differently and demanded that they find a way to improve the T-Virus so that it achieved a 100 death rate in humans.

From the years onwards, Umbrella's entire research staff had slaved away frivolously on trying to force the T-Virus to infect and mutate the remaining ten percent, either by changing the genetic structure of the T-Virus or by using different methods of infecting the hosts. However, all those experiments had yielded was the same results over and over again, in that the T-Virus infected all the cells in the body, killed off the mitochondria, replaced it with its own mitochondria and it would power the entire brain with enough energy to keep the host alive before it went inert, then the immune system in the host would fight back and kill the infection. And no matter what they attempted to do, they just couldn't make the T-Virus kill off the host like it usually did and so their research had come to a stand-still; but Spencer continued to enforce his demands on them and all of Umbrella's facilities were to continue on this fruitless endeavor, despite the problems it caused and the amount of money it cost to fund them.

But, two years ago, Birkin had discovered what it was that was causing the remaining ten percent's immunity to the T-Virus and how they could use it to produce a more effective BOW. It turned out that, whilst the T-Virus was infecting a host that belonged in the 10 category, a certain hormone inside the host's brain was released into the bloodstream and brain chemistry of the host whilst they were being infected, thus provoking extreme stress on the host and causing the hormone to be produced in the brain, which would then act as an energy provider to allow the T-Virus to infect the host fully and power the entire brain without trouble, but it would also take on the role as a 'buffer' to inhibit the virus' necrotic effects and mutational properties on the host's body. This caused the virus to go inert after it had infected every cell in the body and produced its own mitochondria to provide the energy necessary for the host's bodily functions, which made the host become 'immune' to the T-Virus and allowed the immune system to kill off the infection, leaving the host undamaged. From these new findings, Birkin had been able to provide a way of producing a new series of BOWs by placing the host in cryo-stasis and infecting it with the T-Virus, thus slowing the activities of the hormone and allowing the virus to mutate the host in its usual method, whilst the hormone preserved enough of its brain so it could understand orders. This was the start of the Tyrant Project.

However, there was a fatal flaw in the project that was evident from the very beginning when the board had approved the project and ordered for mass production of the Tyrant series; there just weren't enough hosts to become suitable Tyrants and this was due to the extremely volatile nature of the T-Virus. The simple mutations that the T-Virus used to create zombies or the Hunters could be used on just about any human being, but the infection would cause a rapid decline in the host's brain capacity as the T-Virus' necrotic effects killed of the host's brain cells and would only be able to provide enough energy for the lower brain functions, which would in turn significantly destroy their intelligence so that they wouldn't be able to understand orders given to them, thus reducing their potential as BOWs. Tyrants, on the other hand, were a much more formidable BOW to use in combat, but the process used to create a Tyrant could only be used on a specific type of human since the host would need to have a certain amount of intelligence to become a Tyrant.

And, although Birkin had managed to find a way to produce effective Tyrants using the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin hormone as a method to preserve the Tyrant's intellect during the T-Virus mutations, the problem of finding suitable Tyrant hosts was still there because the hormone in question was a rare genetic trait found only in certain people, hence why only 10 of humans were 'immune' to the T-Virus. When Birkin had announced his findings and the Tyrant project had started, Wesker had performed a genetic analysis simulation in one of the secondary laboratories in order to find out how many people would possess the necessary genetic make-up to be able to produce this hormone and become Tyrants. And when the results came in, Wesker couldn't help but harbor a feeling of dread at the thought of having to present his new findings to Spencer and endure whatever harsh reaction would occur once the Head of Umbrella realized the new problems that this project would bring. It turned out that, even if one were to possess the genetic trait to produce the hormone, they still had to be able to produce a sufficient enough quantity of the hormone to counter the T-Virus infection and preserve enough of their intellect to become Tyrants, which greatly reduced the amount of people who could become Tyrants at all, with or without the hormone. From the simulation results, it turned out that if the T-Virus were to infect a population of 10,000 people, only one of them would have the necessary genetic structure and quantity of the hormone to become a Tyrant., the rest becoming zombies.

Originally, Wesker had thought that if they were to continue researching the Tyrants, they would be able to find another way of producing them faster and in greater numbers, but that meant they would have to find a large number of suitable hosts to use in the experiments and there just weren't that many who could be used with the new mutation; in fact, from the results, Wesker concluded that only 10 suitable Tyrant hosts could be found in the United States alone. Thus, all they could do was abduct any person who fit the genetic profile, or at least were close enough to match it, and take back to the facilities to mutate them into Tyrants as best as they could. And, although no one would or even wanted to admit it, the T-Virus had hit a standstill.

_It seems we are stuck between a rock and a hard place, as it goes. We have no suitable way of producing more Tyrants and there aren't even enough hosts for us to use. Our research has hit a wall before it even started. I'll have to tell Spencer, but he won't like it._

Spencer. God only knows what he would think of Wesker's new findings and the additional problems they now had to deal with. At first, Wesker would have found it relatively easy to speak to Spencer at any time since he knew how the mind of a man like him worked and how he was to act around them so that he wouldn't feel threatened or become agitated, and he would have confidently passed along any new information or results to him to get his opinion and advise him on what would be best to do next. As Spencer was a bureaucrat and a businessman, Wesker knew that all such men cared about was money and being able to accumulate more and more of it for themselves by producing more marketable products to sell to potential buyers. But, after that incident back when he had informed Spencer of the T-Virus' kill rate, Wesker didn't really know how Spencer's mind worked anymore, what kind of thoughts ran through his head, what went on behind his cold, piercing glares or what was actually urging him to keep acting the way he did. One of Wesker's main talents had been his ability to read people, to interpret the way they think and act accordingly towards his impressions of them so that he could use them to help him and his work. It was a talent that had served him well and it never failed him. But with Spencer, he just couldn't figure out why the man acted the way he did or what he could possibly be thinking about to make him act that way.

Spencer was in no way an idiot. He was completely aware of everything that happened in the corporation and in the T-Virus project, he was always on top of everything that occurred and he was never oblivious to anything that his employees did, which is why he was where he was now. And he knew how to control each and every aspect of both of his powers bases in order to keep himself in his position of power as the Head of Umbrella. Thus, he knew how much such delicate research would cost to keep it going and how disastrous it could be, for both himself and the corporation, if the virus were to escape, since he knew how the virus worked due to his background in science, and what would happen to him if the public found out about their work. But still, even though he was well aware of the costs, dangers and inevitable consequences of the T-Virus research, he acted irresponsibly in demanding all of the researchers to follow whatever orders he gave them no matter what delays or problems would occur, and despite how much money he could earn by selling their current BOW stock, he still continued to make these impossible demands, even though he was well aware of how expensive it was to fund all of the research. Yet, Wesker had never been able to find out the reason why, why Spencer acted so irresponsibly, why he continued to make such impossible demands, why he refused to sell their current BOWs and why he continued to blatantly ignore all the problems that were evident in their work.

Hence why Wesker had done his own snooping around into Spencer's background and position. During his breaks or whenever he had free time on his hands that his work didn't require his attention on, Wesker would spend much of his time conducting his own private research into finding out what were Spencer's true motives behind his behavior and his reasons why he continually supported the T-Virus research, despite the problems and delays that kept popping all the time. With his access clearance as Head Researcher for the Arklay laboratories, he had been able to gain permission to access some interesting pieces of information and data about what had happened to Umbrella over the years it had been established, such as the many T-Virus outbreaks that had occurred and all the new projects that the corporation would soon be embarking on, namely the Plague Crawlers, Lurkers and Eliminators, but he had yet to find out anything about Spencer's motives. So, in conclusion, Wesker had decided that he would soon have to find a new position to take in Umbrella's inner-machinations that would allow him access to the information he desired and ensure to the corporation that he was still of use to them, since he had begun to notice that he was reaching the end of his limits as a researcher. But, somehow, Spencer had found out what Wesker had been up to and, luckily enough, didn't take any actions against him, instead warning him of where his place was and that he would be punished if he was caught snooping around again, thus letting him off the hook since he was still a high-ranking researcher and of some importance to Umbrella. Hence, Wesker had decided to take more precautions during his searches and inquiries into Spencer's motives, and was spending more of his time with his work on the T-Virus in order to placate with Spencer's demands and remove any suspicions from him so that he didn't antagonize the man too much; Wesker knew all too well how Spencer would act if he showed any sign of treachery and he had first-hand experience of what would happen to him when Spencer deemed him expendable.

Wesker sighed and stood up from the seat by the console, straightening his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. He could worry about Spencer's motives and reasons for his actions when he had a bit more spare time to go investigating, but right now, he had the Tyrant project demanded his attention and he had to focus on trying to resolve the problems it had.

"Have you seen Dr Birkin?" he asked Sarton, not bothering to look at him as he gazed at the readouts for a little longer.

Sarton snapped out of his stupor to glance in Wesker's direction, his expression showing his confusion at what he had been asked since he hadn't been paying attention, but he soon realized what the question was and he nodded his head. "Yes, sir. He's upstairs in B3 with his wife working on trying to find a way of producing more of the hormone," he answered.

Wesker turned away from the console and walked over to his desk, picking up one of the many files on top and reading through it once again. "Tell him I want to speak with him," he ordered, not glancing up from the paper in his hands.

Sarton nodded and hurried out of the room, the automatic door sliding open with a hiss as the doctor approached and shutting itself close with a thud as he stepped past, his footsteps clanging down the corridor towards the lift and then the soft whir of its motor began to fade as the lift went to the upper floors, leaving Wesker alone in the room with the Tyrant nestled inside its tank, still sedated and asleep, its heart continuing its steady pulse and the monitors resonating a small beep with each beat. He spent the next few minutes silently reading through the file and listening to the small sounds of the lab equipment hissing or clicking around him as they continued to keep the Tyrant breathing comfortably inside its tank, occasionally reaching up to straighten his sunglasses on his nose. Soon enough, he heard the elevator in the hallway outside whir to a stop on this floor, a few footsteps clanging on the metal floor and the door sliding open with a hiss to reveal William Birkin outside, who stepped through and went over to sit by his desk, placing his cup of coffee and the folder under his arm on the top, the brown liquid slushing around inside, threatening to spill over the edge of the cup.

Birkin opened up his folder and took out the pieces of paper inside, placing them on the table briefly before he turned back at Wesker. "You wanted to see me, Wesker?" he asked.

Wesker placed the file back on his desk and looked up Birkin, nodding his head slightly. "Yes. I was wondering how your work on the hormone is progressing," he stated, stepping up to the side of Birkin's desk.

Birkin picked up one of the sheets of paper and held it out to Wesker. "So far, it's going slowly. We haven't been able to produce significant quantities of the hormone and we have yet to find more people with this genetic trait in the area. Right now, I am attempting to find another, more quicker way of mass-producing this hormone without the need of having to acquire more people with the necessary genetic trait," he explained.

Wesker took the file from Birkin's outstretched hand and skimmed through it, taking in every detail printed out on the paper before he looked back up at his colleague. "Have any of these methods worked so far?" he questioned, handing the paper back to him.

Birkin took the paper and placed it back on the desk, turning back around to face his desk. "None at the moment. We just can't seem to create more quantities of the hormone effectively without possessing a suitable person that has the necessary DNA sequence to produce large quantities of the hormone for us to use. And besides, even if we found a suitable host that could do this, we have yet to find a suitable way to extract them from the hosts for us to use," he explained, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.

Wesker remained silent at that and simply paced around behind Birkin's chair, arms folded together and his fingers tapped out a rhythm against his biceps. "How's Annette?" he asked out of the blue.

Birkin placed the cup back down abruptly and glanced at Wesker over his shoulder, eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

Wesker stopped his pacing and shrugged. "Friendly gesture."

Birkin stared at Wesker for a few seconds but soon turned back to his desk, picked up a pen on top and started to scribble down notes on the pieces of paper in front of him. "She's fine. She is currently testing one of our methods to see whether it is suitable for us to use. She is attempting to replicate the DNA sequence of the genetic trait that allows people to produce the hormone so that we can create clone strains of this trait and implant it into another person, thus allowing them to become suitable Tyrant hosts," he answered, taking another sip from his coffee.

Wesker nodded slightly in understanding. Ever since scientists had started the Human Genome Project many years ago and had begun mapping the entire genetic structure of human beings, right down to the last base in the smallest DNA sequence, it was now possible to conduct new methods of treatment and surgery using DNA itself. Cloning was one of the newest methods announced to the scientific community and was currently under speculation on its reliability in experiments and research; so far, they had yet to reach a full conclusion on whether or not it should be used, although there were some that claimed to have used this method in some of their experiments and that it was a reliable method to be used in R&D projects. Umbrella, being one of the largest medical and pharmaceutical enterprises in the world, had heard of this method and had decided to adopt some of the new methods brought on by the scientific community in their own research with the T-Virus, in hopes that it would help the research move forward.

"And how's Sherry?" Wesker asked bluntly.

Birkin immediately snapped up sharply from what he was doing, his eyes widened in surprise and directed to the wall in front of him, the pen dropping from his stunned hands. "She's...she's..." he mumbled under his breath, his eyes cast down to his desk.

Wesker inclined his head at Birkin and stepped closer. "Something wrong?"

Birkin shook his head and cleared his throat. "No, it's just...You can be very blunt sometimes with your questions, Wesker. She's fine by the way," he answered.

Before Wesker could say anything else, Birkin looked up at the wall and chuckled softly, a small smile perched on his lips. "You know, she took her first steps last week. When me and Annette got back home from work, we went upstairs to check on Sherry and...she walked across the room towards us. From her cot to her bedroom door. It's funny. You wouldn't normally even care that someone is walking since it's such a basic motion of the body and mind, just an order passed down from the brain, through the nervous system towards the muscles in your legs and your muscles just move forward with your bones, expanding and contracting with each step. You'd just ignore it and carry on with your life because it's so normal. Yet, when Sherry did it, I couldn't help but feel proud that she had actually managed to get up and walk towards us from her cot," he explained in a soft, affectionate voice, his face alight with the pride and love he felt for his daughter.

Wesker stared at Birkin's back for some time, his eyes peering at him from behind his sunglasses impassively as he listened carefully to Birkin's small speech of praise to his daughter, noticing as Birkin continued to stare at the wall in front of him blankly, gazing away as if he could see his daughter smiling happily and taking her first steps back at home from where he was.

_Yet another twist in the road of our lives and careers. William Birkin has actually started to raise a family. Quite an achievement, especially when he has to spend time working with our T-Virus research in Umbrella._

Wesker remembered those days vividly, since it was quite a shocking turn of events, even after everything they had seen. Two years ago, around the same time that Birkin had discovered the hormone that could be used as a method of creating Tyrants and had proved it was responsible for the 10 immunity in T-Virus victims, he had announced abruptly and out of the blue that he was marrying his assistant Annette Jenkins, and that he would be elevating her to the position of Head Researcher along with him. Wesker, like everyone else in the entire laboratories, was rather surprised at his outburst since everyone had a rather fixed opinion of Birkin, namely that he was a shrewd perfectionist with a potentially volatile temper and an arrogant demeanor that he was above everyone else in the lab in terms of intellect. This was especially most evident when Alexia Ashford had arrived and the entire Arklay facility fell into disarray due to Birkin's intolerably jealous behavior, when he had begun to work at such a fast work-pace that no one could keep up with him and his constant demands for whatever he believed necessary for him to beat his 'rival', which resulted in the death of several specimens, either by Birkin's hectic and irrational experiments or from lack of resources to keep them alive in stasis. In fact, several staff members in the Arklay facility had complained to Spencer about Birkin's behavior and requested immediate transfer to another facility to continue their work, away from Birkin's scolding tongue, although the staff had brought in on themselves due to their continued appraisal of Miss Ashford. Thus, Birkin was hated and feared by everyone who worked for him in the labs, since a lot of the staff were in fact in their senior years and had worked in the labs for so long that they felt that they shouldn't need to take orders from a man barely out of his teens.

Hence, when Birkin had made his marital announcement, everyone was pretty much stunned that William Birkin, the man who was hated and feared by every person in the Arklay laboratories, who showed nothing but contempt to those around him and believed himself to be above everyone else, could actually notice, let alone fall in love, with a woman near him, and that he would make a proposal of matrimony to her. Wesker, however, didn't really found it as surprising as the others had, since he had already noticed the signs beforehand a few years back when Birkin had hired Annette as his assistant. Every time he saw them together, it was easy to tell that there was something forming between them. Whenever they were working together in the laboratories with the T-Virus research, they worked as a perfect team, never once complaining or arguing with each other about anything in their work and had always agreed with whatever the other suggested about their work, which had led to the many new discoveries that the corporation was now using to further its research. After work hours, he would often find them sitting together in the cafeteria, talking to each other about anything besides their work and laughing at whatever joke was passed between them, both listening intently to whatever each other had to say. And besides that, there were the times when they would stare at each other in admiration and a sense of longing, of desire to be able to be together with each other, and each time their stares met, they simply continued to stare into each other's eyes, as if to sink deeply into the strong emotions they found there, transmitting a secret telepathic message between themselves, before they blushed bright red and immediately shifted their attention back to their work.

He supposed it was only a matter of time before Birkin popped the question to her after everything that had happened between him and Annette; after all, it wasn't really that surprising that two people who worked with each other everyday, who shared the same interests, ideals and hobbies, and were both as talented as each other, could be able to marry each other, or have a child.

That was another surprise about Birkin that Umbrella's higher-ups hadn't expected. Even though Spencer and the board were quite surprised about Birkin's marriage to his assistant, since he was one of their best scientists and they couldn't afford to lose him after everything he had done, they had paid for the entire procession using the money drawn out from their deep pockets and had even offered them a house to live in the city, along with easy access to the laboratories by the mountain trails; they had even tracked down their parents and relatives to inform them of the wedding and have them attend it. The honeymoon was also paid for by Umbrella, allowing the newlyweds to spend some time together in Florida, to celebrate their union, but Spencer had ordered that they were to report back to their work at the Arklay facility immediately after their return to Raccoon City and naturally, they followed his orders and the Birkin couple went back to work as before. However, a few weeks before Birkin proposed to her, Annette had to spend many of her days of her work to visit the local hospital in the mountains, due to complaints of stomach aches and nausea. As Umbrella couldn't afford to have one of their scientists becoming ill and losing concentration in their work, especially when concerning something as delicate as the T-Virus, Spencer and the board allowed to leave the facility to get a proper medical diagnostic; at first, they had found it strange that she had stubbornly refused to be treated at the mansion's infirmary, but Wesker knew that it was mainly down to the point that she didn't particularly consider being treated at a place where they create the deadliest biological weapon in the world by a member of the research team developing the virus to be a neither good nor sensible idea. So, she had left the facility for some time and went to get her diagnostic from the Arklay hospital at the other end of the mountain range, returning shortly afterwards to continue her work. But, a few weeks after their honeymoon, Annette had been rushed to the hospital's maternity ward and had given birth to a healthy baby girl; Sherry Alicia Birkin, the newest addition to the Birkin family.

That had been a bit of a surprise for everyone at the Arklay laboratories, but what Wesker found more surprising was that Spencer was actually being a bit lenient towards Birkin's situation and giving him a bit more freedom to cope with these new changes. At first, Wesker thought that Spencer would have ignored the child and Birkin's marriage altogether, stating that his work for Umbrella's BOW projects were more important and he should forget about his family to devote more time to his work, but instead, he told Birkin that he could adjust his work hours to support both his research endeavors and family life at home, allowing him to leave the mansion whenever he wished and return home to his family, so long as he continued to work for the corporation and produce some more suitable results for them to use in the Tyrant Project. Wesker himself heard about Spencer's decisions on the matter when he had been called to his office and he had been given express orders to make sure that Birkin stays on track with his work, that they have no more mistakes and will be able to find a way of producing more effective Tyrants. Birkin agreed completely with Spencer's demands and had leaped back into his work, becoming engrossed once again in the world of equations and numbers as he slaved away to find the solution to the Tyrant's intelligence problem, his wife working by his side as usual. And so, William and Annette Birkin spent the entire afternoon working down in the Arklay laboratories on the T-Virus project, whilst the mornings and evenings were spent at home raising their daughter. Naturally, everyone around them failed to understand how Birkin could even consider marriage, let alone raising a child, whilst he held such an important position in Umbrella's research staff and was involved some rather demanding work, and sometimes Wesker would often agree with them; it had often been said that no 'normal' person would ever consider continuing their work on the T-Virus when they had a family to raise and should leave as soon as possible, leave it all behind and let it fade away in the shadows of time. Only the crazy ones could ever be able to continue working on the T-Virus after so long, after everything that they had done and after witnessing the horrors they created. Such as Spencer. Such as Marcus. Such as Birkin. Or perhaps, Wesker believed, even himself.

"Do you have any suggestions on how we can retrieve more of this hormone?" he asked, deciding it was best to leave that topic behind him and focus on more pressing matters.

Birkin sighed and shook his head. "No. So far, we have yet any good method of either producing or extracting the substance, as I said before. Although, there are still some more theories I have to analyze, to see if they can be used for our work, but I can't promise anything," he answered.

Wesker nodded. "I'll have to tell Spencer about this in the next meeting. But he won't be particularly happy with our results."

Birkin scoffed. "Spencer's an idiot," he stated scornfully.

"Now, now William. Remember who you're talking about," Wesker warned.

"I know, I know. You don't have to tell me. But seriously, how can we hope to achieve any worthwhile results with him breathing down our necks? What's he expect us to do, make the results appear by magic?" He groaned and placed his head in his hands, his fingers clutching onto pieces of his hair tightly. "To be honest with you, Wesker, I think our research has come to hole that is too deep for us to get out off."

Wesker nodded and looked away from Birkin, staring up at the Tyrant still sleeping in stasis, straightening his sunglasses occasionally. "True. And I have no doubt that it's the same for the other research facilities as well."

Birkin slammed his hands on his desk and sighed. "It's the hosts themselves that are the problem. Even if we could turn them into Tyrants, their intelligence will be too badly damaged for them to be able to understand and obey orders. The host's brain is just to susceptible to the necrotic effects of the T-Virus and it will become too badly damaged for them to become effective Tyrants, since they will lack the necessary brainpower to understand orders that we give to them," he explained.

Wesker's eye widened sharply and he snapped his head in Birkin's direction, his explanation having caused his mind to jog back to a recent memory of something rather important, something that could be useful to help move their experiments forward. Apparently, during one of his small investigations in trying to uncover Spencer's true motives, he had discovered some data files that gave mention to another project that was being conducted by the European Division of Umbrella to create an ulterior method of producing suitable Tyrants; it was called the Nemesis Project. So far, Wesker hadn't found any relevant data that could shed light on what the 'Nemesis' was, but it seemed to be something of a method that hadn't been used before in Umbrella's BOW research and Spencer probably had not yet reviewed it himself.

_But maybe, if there's a chance, Nemesis could be the key to helping us move our research forward. We have yet to find a suitable method of producing more Tyrants and our current research route is at a standstill, so we don't have much of a choice._

Wesker cleared his throat to attract Birkin's attention and he straightened his sunglasses with his right hand, his mind thinking over how he was to explain his idea to Birkin.. Although Wesker never liked to leave things to chance, he knew that there was nothing else they could do and, as the saying goes, desperate times call for desperate measures. "In think I have a suggestion that could help move our research along," he said calmly.

Birkin arched an eyebrow at him in curiosity. "What is it then?"

"I think that we should focus our efforts on something different now, on something a bit more promising than the Tyrant Project," he stated, walking up to Birkin's desk and leaning against, his arms crossed over his chest.

Birkin picked up his coffee and took a sip. "What do you mean?"

Wesker looked at Birkin full in the face, his expression cool and collected as always. "I am saying that we should embark an entirely new project. Since the Tyrant project has come to a standstill, we should focus our efforts and minds on something entirely new as our current actions with the Tyrant Project and the hormone have yet to yield suitable results for us to use. I suggest that we embark on performing our own version of the Nemesis Project."

Birkin's expression changed to one of confusion, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed slightly as he stared blankly at Birkin. It was obvious that Birkin wouldn't know what Nemesis was since Wesker had only recently discovered during one of his searches and he hadn't ever told anyone about what he found in his investigations, to ensure that Spencer wouldn't find out about what he was up to. And besides, Birkin was so wrapped in his work and family life, he wouldn't even pay attention to what Wesker would say on the matter.

"In answer to your confusion, William, the Nemesis Project was a method used by Umbrella's Europe Division to create a third-level BOW without resorting to using the hormone as the primary base. It involved using a method that has not been used at all in the T-Virus project and Spencer has yet to review it, although it has been filed in the data archives, so it should be usable in our work," he explained.

Birkin's eyes narrowed sharply and his lips formed a sneer of disgust. "You're not seriously suggesting that we use something from another division's research, are you?" he asked sceptically.

Wesker nodded. "Of course. Why else would I mention it?"

Birkin stood up sharply, his cheeks flushed with anger. "Don't be stupid!! We don't need anything from them! We are doing fine on our own because we have found far more useful discoveries than any of their scientists have!" he exclaimed, his tone filled with pride.

Wesker sighed. Like with the higher-ups on the board, Birkin shared in the bitter rivalry between the divisions over who was the better one, who had the better results and who was in more of Spencer's favor, but Birkin did more out of scientific pride of his own arrogance than the board members' lust for power over their small empires in Umbrella's hierarchy. Do you have a better suggestion?" he asked stoically.

Birkin nodded vigorously. "Of course I do!! We continue on where we are at the moment and try to find a way of mass-producing this hormone gene, so we can implant it into other hosts in order to make them suitable Tyrant hosts. We'll find a method of producing this hormone gene and the hormone itself to sufficient quantities to match the Tyrant Project's criteria, you and Spencer can be sure of that! We don't need the help of the other divisions; we have made far better results and worthwhile discoveries than any of those idiots!" he declared stubbornly.

"Then what do we do? Hmm? Waste another few years away by frivolously slaving away on something we know will bare nothing? Feebly stumble around looking for hosts that match such a strict criteria which excludes most of the human race? Tell me then. How WILL you accomplish this, William?" Wesker questioned, his eyes narrowing sharply behind his sunglasses and his voice taking an irritated tone

Birkin was stunned and couldn't think of anything to say back to that because he knew that Wesker was right. Right now, their research on the Tyrant Project was at a rather impassable obstacle at the moment since they couldn't find any suitable hosts that matched the genetic boundaries to become Tyrants, and whether or not they possessed the hormone that could inhibit the T-Virus' necrotic effects, they still had to be able to preserve enough of their brain structure to have the ability to understand orders by producing sufficient quantities to prevent most of the necrotic damage in the hosts' brain cells. And Birkin knew that they had yet to find any suitable Tyrant hosts or productive methods to create effective Tyrants since the current hosts they had so far lacked the necessary genetic structure to produce the hormone in sufficient quantities, and until they found a suitable Tyrant host, their research wouldn't go anywhere at all.

He sighed and bowed his head in defeat. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Wesker. We'll go with your suggestion."

Wesker nodded and walked up towards the door, stopping in front of it as the door automatically slid to the roof. "I'll pay Spencer a visit and explain our situation to him. Despite what he might think of our current lack of results and what suspicions he may have at our new project choice, he has to realize that our current experiments on the Tyrant Project are not going to get any worthwhile results until he find some suitable hosts to use."

"But what are we to use?" Birkin asked, his face adopting into the serious, focused expression he always wore during his work. "If you wish to use something for us to test the Nemesis project on, you will have to find a suitable host. And as the Nemesis was created to originally become a third-level BOW, as you have stated, we will need a person who has the genetic characteristics to become a Tyrant if we want to make the Nemesis match with the host for our experiment."

Wesker's mouth twitched as he felt a triumphant smile come along, but he suppressed and kept his expression as calm as ever. "Don't worry. I have selected a suitable host for the experiment," he replied bluntly.

Birkin's eyes widened in surprise. "Really!? Who!?"

Wesker chuckled. "You'll find out soon enough. But, right now, I had best go and organize this meeting with Spencer so we can discuss about setting up this new experiment." And after that, Wesker stepped through the door and walked towards the elevator at a brisk pace, his footsteps clanging against the metal floor and the door closing behind him with a hiss as he approached the elevator.

Although Birkin was right about the fact that, since the Nemesis Project was originally meant to be a different method of producing a third-level BOW, it would only be compatible with another third-level BOW like the Tyrants, but all of the research data on the project hadn't yet been uploaded into the data archives, which meant they would be using an untested and potentially dangerous subject for their new endeavors. In addition, they couldn't waste any more time frivolously searching across the globe for any such hosts to use as Spencer would want all of the compatible Tyrant hosts to be used in the Tyrant Project and there were already a rather limited number of hosts to use in the United States alone, so they would have to use an expendable host from one of their stocks, one that they still had stored inside the Arklay labs for them to use. And Wesker knew which host would be best suited for the new experiments with Nemesis.

_After all, even if she dies in this experiment, what have we got to lose? Miss Lisa has not yielded any new results thus far in our T-Virus project and is just rotting away in the prison cells on level B3._

Ever since she had been 'brought' to the laboratories beneath the Spencer Estate, Lisa had so far not provided Umbrella with any new results for them to use, despite the fact that she had survived her hellish existence as a test subject in the T-Virus Project for near enough thirty years, and had been pumped with every newest strain of the Progenitor and T-Virus up to the present. Although her overall immunity to all the viruses she had been administered with and the fact that she was still technically alive from all of the torture she had suffered was quite astounding in itself, the corporation had labeled her as an overall failure and wouldn't cast so much as a second glance over her death. Thus, she would be the perfect test subject for them to test the Nemesis on in the near future; whether she lived and gave them some new discoveries to be investigated, or died from exposure to the Nemesis, it would be of no concern to anyone on what would happen in the experiment.

As he stepped up to the elevator and pushed the call button for it, the sound of the motor whirring towards him from the floor above, Wesker briefly wondered how Spencer would react to his suggestion on pursuing a different experimental project than his current research on the Tyrants'. He would most definitely be angered and irritated at the fact that Wesker was disobeying his direct commands on focusing to mass-produce the Tyrant-BOW series with the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin hormone, and was even considering of following through on a different project that another division in Umbrella's biological weaponry development that had yet to be fully uploaded to the data archives. But, Spencer was not in any way ignorant of the work they were doing and would be able to understand Wesker's reasonings for the change in work focus due to his own scientific background, which meant that he might allow the project to be put forward, although he would be suspicious as to how Wesker had come up with the information on Nemesis in the first place. Spencer had already caught him once trying to snoop around and ask questions about him, and had given him fair warning that if he was caught again, he would be punished; and although Wesker had told him that he wouldn't do so, he had the the brief thought that Spencer probably knew he would do it again and would have him watched.

_I will have to tread lightly and be careful of what I say. Spencer already begins to suspect me and my investigations have not gone unnoticed. So I have to be extremely cautious to not antagonize him further._

When the lift arrived and the gates slid open, Wesker stepped inside and pushed the button to head up to B3, the gates sliding shut and the elevator beginning its ascent back up to its previous stop, the motor whirring comfortably as the box slowly raised itself through the dark metal shaft. Although he had to plan what he was to say to Spencer, organize the new experiments and ensure that Lisa's health was stable enough for her to be put through her experiment with the Nemesis, Wesker knew that he had better get back to focusing on his research in trying to ascertain a suitable method for producing effective Tyrants and being able to preserve their intellect to a satisfactory degree, despite the massive amount of problems and delays that were blocking them every step of the way.

He sighed exasperatedly, feeling his frustration and stress at his demanding research build up inside him; it seemed that his idea of making a career change in Umbrella's businesses was growing more appealing to him by the minute, but he knew that he couldn't make any foolish moves with Spencer's attention focused on him and his actions, not unless he wanted to join Dr Marcus wherever he had been sent to.

All he had to was be patient, like he had been throughout most of his career; as the saying goes 'patience is a virtue' and it had come true for him most of the time. So all he had to do was wait until the right moment came for him to change positions.

When the lift stopped and its gates slipped open, Wesker walked out at a brisk pace and entered one of the many labs in the vast underground complex, seated himself down at one of the desks inside and picked up one of the many pieces of paper scattered on top, reading through it quickly before he pulled on his lab coat and joined the other scientists in the surgical room to observe one of their experiments with a Tyrant host...

**Hey everyone!! Another chapter for you all!!**

**Sorry it took so long to update again. This was a very complicated chapter, since I had to write about how Nemesis was created when there is barely anything for me to use to describe it. I do hope I have done with this chapter and that everyone you know is still in character as usual.**

**In answer to one of my reviewers questions, yes; I intend to write about the STARS before RE1, and then I intend to write out all the games in the exact order; hopefully they'll be much easier since I can simply replay the games to remind myself of how the games went along.**

**Again, apologies for this late update and I hope you enjoy it. Read and review if you want, and thanks to those who have reviewed and favourited it! Thanks bery much for your encouragement, greatly appreciated!!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 38!!**


	38. Chapter 38

Thirty Eight

May 2nd, 1988, Umbrella Europe HQ, Paris.

Inside the west wing conference room of Christina Henri's estate, the entire Umbrella Executive Board were gathered around the large table in the center, sitting silently on the leather armchairs placed around the table, each of them staring anxiously at Lord Spencer, awaiting his next statement on the subject under discussion. Spencer himself was seated at the head of the table, with Sergei, McVarian and his secretary Laura standing behind him, his cane leaning against the chair's side and an ashtray placed on the table in front of him, a lit cigar held in his left hand that gave off faint trails of smoke as he silently read through the paper held in his right hand, his eyes skimming over the paper from behind his thin glasses. The meeting that was being held between the Executive Board was intended to discuss what they were to do about the problems facing the Tyrant Project, to evaluate how well Umbrella's public business enterprises were performing in embedding themselves into the average civilian lifestyles, legal systems and local governments across the globe, and to analyze and review any new projects that had been put forward for their inspection. One such project happened to be the one he was reading in his hand; it was a detailed summary of a new project that was to be conducted at the Arklay laboratories to produce a new type of BOW.

The research staff at the Arklay facility wanted to see if they could create a new series of BOW using the same method as they did to create the Hunters, except by using insect DNA instead of reptilian DNA. As the Hunter series was a combination of reptilian and human DNA to form a hybrid mutant from a fertilized ovum infected with the T-Virus, they believed that they could develop another hybrid mutant model from the same method for Umbrella to use, whilst the Tyrant Project was being delayed by all the problems of finding suitable hosts to become Tyrants. Hence why Wesker had put forward the Chimera Project suggestion for Spencer to analyze and offer his expert opinion on the subject on whether they should develop it or not.

According to the report he held in his hands, the Arklay staff had all the necessary specimen samples, technology and equipment they need to start the experiment, and they were ready to begin development when Spencer gave the word to do so, since most of them were eager to abandon the Tyrant Project for the moment until they came up with something useful to resolve all the delays that had appeared. After all, the Tyrant Project had reached a massive obstacle that was going to be quite challenging for them to cross as they still had no real way to produce effective Tyrants due to a lack of hosts that possessed the all-important chemical that Birkin had discovered or the ability to produce it in large quantities. Thus, most of the employees in Umbrella's scientific staff were hoping to move onto far more profitable projects, like the Chimera project, since they wouldn't be able to advance with the Tyrants until they found suitable hosts to use.

_But that all depends on whether they are able to produce effective BOWs from this 'Chimera' project. There's no point in starting something if all we get is nothing. Although I have no qualms about this project being undertaken; we need something else we can use in our BOW research whilst the Tyrants are being sorted through._

Spencer took a whiff of his cigar and passed the paper onto Christina. "What do you all think of this new project?" he questioned, blowing the smoke out to the ceiling. Even though Spencer saw no problems with the suggested Chimera project and was more than willing to allow it to be started, he still had to get the rest of the board's opinion because, although they all worked for him loyally and followed every command he gave them, they all still needed to work together on every aspect of the corporation's activities and that meant that they had to be agreed on every little detail on anything new that was presented to them, otherwise there would be conflicts of interest between all of them which could bring down the efficiency of their research and development in the T-Virus Project.

Christina took the report and briefly read through it, her eyes darting across the page with great speed, before she handed it on to Takashi beside her. "I see nothing wrong with this project. We are currently lacking with the Tyrant Project and have still found no way of preserving the hosts' intellect more effectively, so that they can withstand the T-Virus' necrotic effects and have enough brainpower to understand our orders. Thus, we have hit a rather major obstacle in our research and the scientists at our disposal have not yet found a suitable resolution to this problem, so if we are to get our research back on track, we need to have the research employees focus on something else. Besides, if the staff say they can do it, then I have no worries about them starting it," she answered in her usual cold and abrupt manner.

After he skimmed through the report, Takashi passed the report onto Bienn and spoke up, "We could certainly use some new research material and specimens in the T-Virus project. What with the Tyrant Project failures and the lack of suitable hosts for us to use in resolving all these problems, all of our research has, near enough, come to a stop and we have received hardly any new results throughout these past two years. And we only managed to obtain any worthwhile results two years ago from the Arklay laboratories, thanks to Dr Birkin," he explained, his left hand gently caressing his signet ring as he spoke.

Spencer nodded his head and glanced up at Sergei. "Have your Monitor agents picked up any new hosts for us to use?" he asked.

Sergei shook his head. "No, sir. As you know, sir, our agents are also stationed in key federal organizations across the globe in addition to our own facilities, so we do have access to the criminal and civilian databases, and we can check their DNA profiles to see if any of them are suitable enough to become potential Tyrant hosts. I had all of them discreetly run DNA checks on all of the databases to find any who matched the criteria for the Tyrant Project and where they were currently located, but we have barely found any hosts at all in any of the continents. There are just too little hosts for the project and those that are seen to be suitable hosts barely even match the DNA criteria," he explained.

Spencer took another whiff of his cigar and turned back to the other members around the table. "Then, I see no objections in allowing the Chimera Project to be started. As Takashi has stated before, we have no new results or BOWs for us to use in the T-Virus research and have not even began to solve any of the problems revolving around the Tyrant series, thus we have to get our research moving forward again and our staff back on track with the T-Virus project. Therefore, I'll allow the Chimera Project to be started and to have all results uploaded to the Red Queen's data archives for further use and speculation by the other divisions; in the meantime, I would like at least a small measure of our science personnel to continue working on the Tyrant Project and see if they will be able to come up with any new suggestions that could help to solve these problems we are no facing. Any questions?" he asked, leaving the topic out on the table for discussion.

No one so much as made a movement or said anything to oppose Lord Spencer's decision for a few minutes, the report on the Chimera Project still being passed around the table, the other members briefly reading through it until it settled in front of Spencer, who held it outwards to Laura for her to put away in the folder she was carrying, which she did sharply. McVarian and Sergei took no glance at the report because they were in charge of supporting Umbrella's military activities, such as troop recruitment, security details and anti-BOW weapons development, thus they never bothered to concern themselves with scientific details unless there had been an outbreak in one of their facilities and they needed to research on what BOWs were stationed there in order to brief their troops on the dangers. However, Bienn soon cleared his throat to catch everyone's attention.

"But what about funding? Will we actually be able to fund this new project when we are spending quite a considerable amount of money on the Tyrant series alone? I mean, we all know that this entire research and development budget on the T-Virus, not to mention its two predecessors (the Progenitor and Mother Virus), is quite taxing, what with construction costs, employee fees, bribes for officials, technology purchasing, disposal operations and sample acquisition. And that's just with the science operations, Mister Spencer; I have no idea how much money we are spending to have your two colonels recruit troops, train them adequately and develop new weapons for T-outbreaks," he said, indicating Sergei and McVarian standing to attention with one ringed hand.

Claxton sighed. "Money is not the issue under debate here, Bienn," she stated in her quiet tone, her voice travelling faintly through the room like leaves on a spring breeze, her dark eyes staring at the large man behind her headscarf. "Since our research has hit a standstill with the Tyrants, we must find some way to get the T-Virus project moving again and letting them start new projects is certainly a good enough way for this to happen. Even if the projects themselves turn out to be failures, we can still be able to use them in future endeavors as research material to analyze in later projects. Besides, with the way our public as a pharmaceutical enterprise is progressing, we needn't worry about our funding."

Spencer nodded in agreement, pulling out another cigar from his silver cigar case and lighting it up. Even though some of these new projects may turn out to be tremendous and worthwhile successes, whilst others may become complete and utter failures, that doesn't mean they can't still be useful in the long run as research material or test subjects for further examination in later projects. All that mattered now was that they acquired new results, new specimens, new BOWs for them to use and get the research back on track once again, whether or not they were able to produce effective BOWs from these new projects. In fact, most of their newest discoveries in their T-Virus projects had been made from re-examining and performing new experiments on previous failures in the past; the hormone that Birkin had uncovered in those 10 immunity was a good example, since they had only been able to find it after constantly examining the entire physiological data of any hosts that fell into the 10 category.

Another example would be the new Tyrant model that the Arklay staff had stored in stasis on floor B4 in their laboratories, the T-002. Although some may call it a tremendous success, in that it had unmatchable strength and speed in battle, and it was resistant to all small-arms fire, especially during it's berserk stage when the T-Virus inside it would mutate further after it sustained a sufficient amount of damage and the virus would regenerated its wounds, making it stronger, faster and more violent than before. However, it was also seen as a catastrophic failure due to the severe necrotic malformations it was afflicted with, such as the way its heart was exposed from inside its chest, leaving it vulnerable to attack by firearms, and that all of these malformations would make it hard for the Tyrant itself to pass off as a human, since its lips had rotted away and its left hand had mutated into a large set of claws, a formidable weapon but too conspicuous to hide, in addition to the obvious fact that it's intelligence was too far degraded for it to understand complex orders, meaning it only understood simple orders like 'Halt' or 'Attack', but even those orders would be rendered obsolete to the Tyrant if it entered its enraged state. But, the Arklay still had it safely in storage, constantly monitored by life-support machinery and regularly sedated to keep it from drowning in its tank, and were using it as a basis to find out how to create a suitable method of protecting the intellect of potential Tyrant hosts.

Takashi clicked his fingers and pointed at Claxton. "That's another topic I wish to discuss in this meeting; our current state of affairs in our medicinal and pharmaceutical marketing. If I may beckon you all to watch the screen, I would like you to see how our public image is doing in both regards to popularity and finances. Miss Henri, if you please," he requested politely.

Christina gave him a slight nod of her head and pulled out the small remote from her pocket, pointing at the projector screen and pushing the button on top, causing the screen to light up with many charts, numbers, graphs and bank account sums, whilst Takashi picked up the briefcase seated besides his chair, opening it up and handing out several folders to the other members of the board, each of them stamped with the red-and-white octagon logo of the Umbrella corporation. Spencer opened up the file he had been given and pulled out the first sheet of paper, reading over the printed words and pictures displayed on its surface, before moving onto the next one; from what he could gather, the entire folder was filled with reams of information about one of the latest pharmaceutical products that Umbrella had been selling over the years, everything from productivity to purchase rate was listed inside the folder, along with a global map that had small dots placed across the many countries it displayed, showing where all of the product was being sold and how fast it was selling.

Takashi pushed back his chair, causing everyone to look up at him, stood up, walked towards the screen and turned back to face the other board members, standing off to the side of the screen so everyone could see what was on the screen without trouble.

He cleared his throat loudly before he began to speak, "As we are all, no doubt, aware of, our research on the T-Virus, as Bienn has stated, costs us quite a lot of money in regards to hiring staff, purchasing specimens and technology for us to work with, in addition to the other operations of soldier recruitment and training, disposal procedures, facility constructions and weapons development, so we needed to come up with a public image that would help us earn more money and technology without drawing too much suspicion. Hence why Lords Spencer and Ashford had came up with the idea of establishing a pharmaceutical company for us to use as the public image that would hide our more 'unpleasant' work endeavors, since we would be able to devote some of our staff to the production of treatments in the medicinal trade and have all the required technology we need for both of our activities handed to us by the government. Thus, over the years, several of our facilities have been focused on producing medications and treatments to sell to the public in order for us to acquire back some of the money that we have spent on our work, both legal and illegal. And, we have so far created dozens of products that are selling like wildfire amongst the general masses, at fairly reasonable prices, in all areas of the world, earning at least over hundred thousands in sums a year. And that's only with US currency, we still have yet to find out how much we are earning back in other countries' currencies."

Behind her head scarf that covered her face, Claxton's lips formed a small smile. "Excellent. There you are, Bienn. Are you satisfied with this answer to your money worries? Or would you prefer if he said it more slowly?" she asked patronizingly.

Bienn glared at Claxton angrily, a low growl escaping his throat, before he turned to face Takashi. "Well, even if we are earning large amounts of money back from selling our medicinal products, it still doesn't mean we can just relax about how we spend our funds. What with everything that has to be done in our corporation to make our research run smoothly and without any outside interference, I suspect that we are spending more than we are earning. How can we be sure that our pharmaceutical enterprise is actually gaining us back the same amount of money we are spending on the T-Virus project," he retorted sternly.

"Actually, we are," Takashi replied. "Our pharmaceutical marketing and medicinal trading is actually earning us the same amount of money that we spend on the T-Virus Project, so there really is no need for concern about our finances."

Christina's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? How so?"

Takashi pulled out a small black rod from his jacket pocket and turned back towards the screen, the rod held in his right hand pointing at one of the charts displayed on-screen. "As you can see from these charts on the screen, we are producing more of our medicinal remedies and treatments at an alarming rate, due to the fact that they are actually quite easy to make in the long run and that most of the ingredients to make them are naturally-grown common plant-life, which helps to smooth over all those people who claim that using manufactured pills and drugs can be deadly to human health. Thus, we are able to keep up with the great demands that the public is throwing at us continuously over the years, which had started ever since we had introduced and successfully sold our first product back in the 1970s. And as we have sold more and more of our products, our popularity has soared amongst the general public over all of the other pharmaceutical companies and enterprises, in that literally nine out of every ten homes now contain our products, in both developing and developed towns or cities. In fact, due to their fast selling rate in all the major cities and our continually growing production rate, we are even considering to raise prices of our products in the more larger cities, such as New York or Paris. But, even if we would keep prices as the way they are from now on, our financial sums would be evenly matched in both regards to the money we earn from selling our medical products and the money we spend in payment towards our...lesser known activities," he explained, pointing at each of the charts individually to emphasis all of his points.

Spencer took another whiff of his cigar and blew out the smoke, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his hands together in front of his face, the cigar still smoking in his left hand. "Well Bienn, I would say that we have little worries in regards to our financial 'dilemmas' that you have been so concerned of," he stated dryly, a small patronizing smile perching on his lips.

Bienn opened his mouth abruptly to deliver a remark or rebuttal of some sorts, but immediately closed his mouth and kept whatever he wanted to say quiet, since he didn't want to insult the man who controlled all of Umbrella and could have him removed with just a snap of his fingers. He instead cleared his throat and turned back to Takashi. "Earlier, you had said that we had become quite popular amongst the general public. Exactly how far has our popularity gone up over the years?" he asked.

Takashi crossed his arms across his chest and regarded Bienn with a cool stare. "Since we have started selling our products from the 1970s onwards, our popularity had begun substantially growing in America, which was where we had commenced our trade businesses first. And, as our corporation has grown in power and expanded to all corners of the globe, we then started establishing trade markets in other cities in all the other continents, thus increasing our popularity immensely with the public. And, since all our products are made from natural ingredients and that we have performed countless tests on them to ensure their safety, we have received no complaints about our products in any way whatsoever. Also, due to the success of our medicinal and pharmaceutical trade, there has been some talk about expanding our production range into cosmetics and health foods, since that is quite an open market for distribution and we could earn a rather surmountable bonus in regards to finances, as a lot of people can be quite concerned about their exterior appearance and the health of their children. In addition, the provincial governments in all of the major cities have actually made an announcement to the public in proclaiming that we are one of the most reliable suppliers in the pharmaceutical industry, although whether or not it's down to either some politicians using our products and complimenting them on how successful they are, or just our down-payments on influential officials being repaid by having votes of confidence be placed on the public in our favor. Nevertheless, since the provincial governments have issued that remark about our reliability and the fact that we have bought out a lot of the other medicinal enterprises over the past couple of years, near enough all of the world's hospitals and medical treatment facilities have been requesting us to provide them with a continuous supply of our products; even the military hospitals have also made requests on our part to provide them with a supply of our medications," he explained.

He paused for a few seconds to allow everything he had said to sink, before he walked back towards the table and made a small gesture with his hand for her to pass the remote to him, which she did hesitantly, sliding it across the polished oak surface until it came to rest in front of Takashi. He nodded at her, picked the remote up in his hand and walked back towards the screen, pressing the button to change as he walked. When he returned to his place at the side of the screen, the screen went pitch black for a few minutes until the Umbrella corporation logo span wildly onto the screen, whirling and twirling around the screen for several seconds then slowing to a stop in the top left corner, a small red and white octagon in the corner. Soon, a picture began to gradually fade into the screen and a soft melody began to play in over the projector's speakers that were connected to the screen via a series of wires that ran from behind the screen to their position on the walls on either side of the screen. As the picture came slowly into focus, it displayed a small purple box standing against a plush woodland background with a bright sun in the top right, the individual rays of sunlight glinting in between the branches and leaves of the trees, making the screen look like a natural portrait; the box itself had the word 'Safsprin' written across it's front in bold white letters, a pair of black and yellow lines running underneath it with the Umbrella logo stamped as the dot on the I, in addition to the small plastic packet of pills that were laid in front of it. Briskly, a beautiful young woman with short blond hair, wearing a bright red dress stepped onto the screen from the right hand side, turned to face the camera and smiled with perfect white, her lips glinting with a slight tint of pink gloss, a small hand held out towards the box and pills.

"The Common Cure. Safsprin," she announced alluringly, her voice sounding sweet and delicate.

The small Umbrella logo suddenly started to spin again and grew larger in size until it filled up the whole screen, twirling wildly in place for a few seconds, the melody fading away into silence, before it began to shrink and spin back into the top left corner again, slowing to a stop as another picture slowly came into focus, a different melody oozing from the speakers, one what sounded like those cheery tunes one could hear in hotel or office elevators. This picture was slightly different from the previous one, in that it displayed a large forest in a beautiful spring day, the sun shining brightly through the trees, except that it was set against a mountainous region, covered in vast acres that were diverse with meadows, forests and hills. Placed in front of the picture was a small, bright blue, plastic tube with the word 'Adravil' written across it in bold golden letters, Umbrella's logo once again playing the role as the dot over the I. Again, a beautiful young woman appeared from the right hand side of the screen, stood in front of the picture and turned towards the camera wearing a duplicate of the previous girl's smile, perfect teeth with a hint of lip gloss, her hand extended towards the item on display, mimicking the previous woman's behavior perfectly, except this woman had shoulder length brown hair and was wearing a glimmering turquoise dress.

"Quick & Fast Relief. Adravil," she announced, in the same delicate yet alluring tone as before.

The Umbrella logo again began to twirl wildly and grew in size until it once again filled the entire screen, spinning in its pace for several seconds, the second melody following the previous into silence, before it slowed down in speed and drifted back to its perch in the top left hand corner, another picture beginning to appear, another melody playing again, this one sounded more like a piece played on a classical piano, soft and gentle notes sliding together like links on a chain. This picture was completely different from the others that had been displayed before it because, whilst the other pictures had been on a woodland scenery or at least partially displayed some forest scenery, this third picture was displaying a view of a vast ocean, waves rising and falling across the water's surface, another bright yellow sun casting rays of sunlight down onto the scene, causing small glints of rainbow-colored lights to flash on the water. Standing in front of the picture was a small brown bottle and a small brown tub, both with white labels stamped on the front and the words 'Aqua Cure' written across the front in bold green letters, the lid of the tub popped open to reveal a large sample of a clear liquid inside that looked something like antiseptic cream. And like the other films, another beautiful woman, with curly red hair and wearing a long white dress, stepped out from the right hand side of the screen and held out her hand towards the product, her perfect smile turned towards the camera.

"Escape to Ecstasy. Aqua Cure," she announced with the same delicate yet alluring tone as the others.

Again the Umbrella logo started to spin again, twirling slowly in its perch at the top left corner of the screen, but instead of flying to the front of the screen and growing in size until it filled the whole screen, it fell down to rest in the middle of the screen nearest to the left hand side and slowed to a stop as the picture of the woman, medical product and ocean faded away, leaving nothing but darkness. Suddenly, the word 'Umbrella', printed in bold metallic red letters, shot into the screen from the right hand side and stopped in the middle of the screen, the word 'Corporation' following inside afterwards and coming to rest underneath the previous word, both words giving a brief flash of light on the corner of the last letter, the sound of a small bell tingled loudly from the speakers as the flash filled the whole screen and vanished, leaving behind the symbol and two words that gave a bright metallic sheen from where they sat on screen.

"Umbrella. Preserving the health of the people," a calm female voice stated assuringly. In a way, to Spencer, the voice sounded slightly similar to the Red Queen supercomputer that was in charge of monitoring Umbrella's digital archives and computer networks.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at the irony behind that statement, like he did several years ago when he and Edward had first came up with idea to establish Umbrella, as the screen blinked off when Takashi pressed the remote and the screen raised up to its slot in the roof with a sot hum, then a sharp click when the hinges set inside the wall locked it in place. To the general public, the law enforcement and provincial governments, Umbrella was a saint, a trustworthy and reliable corporation that sold pharmaceuticals and medicine to all areas of the world, to offer aid towards the hospitals global wide in their continuous struggle against disease and infection, to provide the public with effective and non-hazardous medical treatments that could help them cope with all of the various bacteria and viruses that crossed the world. And thanks to the large amount of Umbrella members inside the law and governments, and all of the officials who were now on payroll from Umbrella's deep sums of money, that shroud of devotion, faith and adoration would remain there in order for their other activities to go by unaffected.

For, behind the shadows and the shroud of supposed 'truth' they had placed over the public eye, what Umbrella was really doing was the exact contradictory opposite to their statement of preserving health, since they were really intending to expand into the more profitable business of biological warfare. What they were doing was not curing diseases, but controlling them, creating viruses as weapons instead of antidotes to illnesses, training their own armies of both human and inhuman, to create living demons of Hell and sell them to the highest bidder as a method to wage war throughout the third world. But the public, oblivious to the entire fact due to Umbrella's formidable security measures and its highly-trained special agents that were placed in every key opposition, would not even suspect Umbrella of being remotely capable of doing anything like that and would simply mill about their little lives as usual, harboring no doubts or suspicions towards Umbrella.

Spencer's grin widened as a rather relishing thought came to his head. It was really quite surprising how gullible and naive the public could be about anything that was slapped in front of their faces; they blindly took whatever piece of information that the government or law passed on to them and simply accepted it as the 'truth', never once questioning why it was there in the first place and simply went back to carrying on their own individual lives, not once paying much attention to what they had just been told. As for the world government, the United Nations, and the provincial and legal authorities, they claimed to be protecting the public from crime, fighting for the safety of their people and doing everything in their power to make their lives much more comfortable, but all Spencer had to do to change that was either take out a small payment from Umbrella's deep pockets and hand it to them on a silver platter with a little favor to ask for it, or just use their influential power to intimidate them and shatter their confidence until all they could was meekly obey their every wishes. He only wished that he could be able to see each and every one of their faces when Spencer unveiled his grand plan, when Umbrella's true nature became exposed, when he revealed the awesome might of his BOW programs and used this might to raise his own power, to elevate himself from a simple noble man and businessman to the grand ruler of the planet, to rule over every little thing with a terrifying and powerful army of perfected BOWs behind him all the way. THAT alone would be enough for him to consider it as the perfect monument to him on his death bed, to be announced as humanity's overall governor and own the immense pillar of power that was Umbrella.

_Still though, we must tread cautiously for now, what with things the way they are. Despite the BOWs we already have, as powerful and effective as they are, they are still not yet ready to be used in our plans, since they possess too many flaws that could be exploited. And if the public find out about us before we even begin to accumulate enough powerful BOWs for us to use, then 'it'll come down on us like a tonne of bricks', to quote such a common phrase._

Spencer's smile vanished and was replaced by a stern, cold expression as his mind regarded all of the consequences that would most inevitably cascade upon Umbrella should their BOW and T-Virus be exposed too soon, before he was ready to unleash the final phase of his plan. If so much as a fragment of Umbrella's true activities were exposed to the world, there would be a massive uproar from the public and mass riots would spark radically across the globe, thousands upon thousands of people flocking to streets, marching towards all the legal agencies and government with an outcry of fury towards Umbrella, demanding the entire corporation to be punished and suffer justice for all of their crimes. Thus, despite the large amount of government officials and law enforcement agents they had on their payroll from their deep pockets or the large influence they had over the UN and world governments due to each of the board members having large positions in the global political stage, there would be nothing they could do to stop the UN and world political powers from having them quite literally crucified in response to the vast outcry for Umbrella's crimes to be held accountable because, no matter what methods or procedures Umbrella would use to protect itself, the governments would immediately break away from Umbrella's control and side with the enraged global population in order to prevent the dangerous situation from escalating into global chaos and mass protesting in all the major cities, since they knew that such a thing would be extremely crippling to their own power bases if that were to happen and they would definitely attempt to have Umbrella taken down so that they will be left unscathed from the ensuring violence and radical activities. After all, what Umbrella's real intentions were from the very beginning and the methods they were using to accomplish these goals could never been forgiven by anyone, not by a long shot for over several millennia, since what they did not only fell into a similar criteria that resembled closely to genocide, it literally defied all the laws of physic in the known universe and would irrevocably scar any who saw it, what with the T-Virus itself, the effects it had on humans who suffered from a normal infection and the hellish creatures they had created from experiments they had controlled, and if any of this was revealed to the world...well, although Spencer had never had a similar experience himself, he was pretty sure that he'd be having a somewhat similar experience that McVarian and Sergei had when they were POWs waiting to be executed if the government caught him and charged him with this magnitude of monstrous crimes.

However, they would never find out, that he was definitely assured off with all his confidence. They had the best ever laid out security system for trapping spies sent by their competitors to steal their work or sealing any potentially hazardous outbreaks that could spread to any human civilization, including an optimum-efficient failsafe that would wipe away all evidence of their involvement with just a push of a button and a countdown of simple seconds. They had most of the world's governments and law upholders under their thumb, due to either bribery, blackmail or intimidation, who would ensure that any investigations what ran against them shall end up straight into the toilet where they belong and ridicule the perpetrators to such a degree that the entire world would fall deaf to whatever they had to say, turning a blind eye to their very existence. Besides, if all else failed, they had their own private army and special forces waiting in the wings, highly-trained and ready to be deployed at a moment's notice to wipe out any BOWs that would escape from their facilities into the nearby environment to prevent them from reaching any source of human civilization, including their own organization of deadly assassins that would eliminate any person who so much as posed a single threat to their corporation's integrity, either . Thus, Spencer, the board and the entire corporation had never harbored any worries whatsoever about their work ever being exposed because they were constantly reassured that if so much as a hint of danger towards them was revealed, their security measures would act upon it quickly to ensure that no harm would come to them or their work.

Deciding to ignore those thoughts, Spencer took another whiff of his cigar and regarded Takashi with a stern, flat gaze. "Quite an interesting display, Takashi. I have to admit that it was certainly eye-catching, to say the least. Very well made," he complimented, blowing out the smoke towards the ceiling.

"Thank you, Lord Spencer. We aim to please," Takashi replied gratefully as he walked back towards his seat and sat down, sliding the remote across the table towards Christina, who picked it up and put it back in her pocket. "What I showed just then were our top three most popular products currently on the market to the public; Safsprin, Adravil and Aqua Cure. Safsprin is, as it's name goes, the common cure for all of the common illnesses, such as stomach pains, headaches, migraines, flu and the cold. Adravil is highly-effective and quick-reacting analgesic, or painkiller if you will, that can find and cure any sense of pain on the body, including ulcers, cold sores and blisters, depending whether it is in pill or ointment form. But Aqua Cure, my dear friends, is Umbrella's crowning achievement in the public and is our fastest selling product on the market; it is a harmless, non-irritating and soothing ointment that can be applied to open wounds and burns, enclosing them within a protective film so that no outside infection or bacteria can get into the wounds whilst it also helps to stop the flow of blood or soothe any sensation of pain during the process of healing. This is when the formula helps the platelets to rebuild and repair the skin cells by providing them with extra energy to boost their reproduction speed, so that the wound can heal completely without causing a scab or scar. And due to this trait, it has earned quite a high admiration in the public eye since it is quick-reacting, harmless, non-irritating and all-naturally produced medicinal treatment." A grin soon formed on Takashi's lips and he made a small gesture with his hand towards Spencer. "Although, we should really extend our gratitude and thanks to Lord Spencer for finding those herbs for us to use in producing our pharmaceuticals. Those four colored herbs you found growing around this region are said to have some rather interesting medical properties and our Pharmaceutical Development Division is truly grateful to you for providing them with a regular supply of these herbs from your own estate, and the surrounding mountain range. Not to mention, I heard that Raccoon City itself has some of these herbs growing in their public areas, thanks to your own acknowledgment at how effective they are as a medicine."

Spencer simply smirked at the grateful remark and crushed out his finished cigar in the ashtray seated in front of him, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes for a few seconds of rest as the rest of the board members began to engage in conversations with each other, giving him a few moments of peace to himself. He felt that it was alright for him to take a few minutes of sleep since there was really nothing that immediately demanded his attention or anything to cause him a great deal of concern; their BOW projects and T-Virus research was, although currently at a standstill, would soon be back to running at decent efficiency and was safe from any outside interference, and their pharmaceutical enterprise was a booming success in the business world and was acquiring them enough funds from the public to keep both their activities running, thanks to the rare herbs that were growing in the Arklay mountain range.

_Actually, I shouldn't be the on receiving the credit for uncovering the herbs. I merely knew of their existence from the man who had found them before; I simply adopted the entire for Umbrella's medical industries._

If one were to barter in technical terms, it would be classed as true that Spencer wasn't the real person to discover the herbs in question, but the credit for finding them could be placed on his family since it was in fact his father who made the discovery in the 1930s, back when he and his parents had been residing at their holiday home in Raccoon City, back when the small suburban town was nothing more than a speck on the American road map. When his father had been alive, he had first uncovered the herbs due to an incident in which he had come down with a severe case of flu during the winter and needed treatment; however, the problem was that Walter Oliver Spencer had been allergic to penicillin, the miracle cure at the time, and his wife, Patricia, had demanded their household servants to search for an alternative method of treatment. Then, one day, a housemaid had suggested that they try administering him a herbal mixture in with his morning tea, to see if would help improve his condition until they found a suitable method; the mixture had been made from three herbs found in the Arklay region, each of them corresponding a different color (green, red and blue), ground finely into a powder and mixed in with his cup of morning tea. Soon after, taking this mixture, his father had made a full recovery and immediately went back to working on his company to offer his assistance in finding a way to keep their industries alive whilst America's economy began to decline after the Wall Street Collapse. Since then, his father had ordered the herbs be brought into his estates across the planet and have a segment of his properties donated to grow the herbs, so that he needn't worry about having to search for any medication or pharmaceutical treatments if he again came down with an illness or infection.

Thus, Spencer saw no harm in procuring some of these herbs and donating them for study to the Pharmaceutical Development Division in order for them to determine their effectiveness as a marketable product, in addition to having all of the herbs grown in the courtyards of his own estate in the Arklay Mountains. The Pharmaceutical Development staff all had agreed that the herbs were indeed fully-capable to be produced as marketable medication and had urgently began mass-production of the herbs into Umbrella's pharmaceutical businesses, creating all of their current products on sale to the public, including their top three most popular products. There had even been some mention from the research staff about being able to develop a vaccine for the T-Virus from the herbs because, after some extensive experimentation on the herbs reaction to T-activity in human blood cells, they were able to determine that, by somehow unknown factor of the herbs' doing, the herbs themselves actually had the ability to suppress the activity of the T-Virus cell in the host's body, causing the T-Infection in the hosts to gradually slow down in producing its own version of mitochondria and its spreading from one cell to another, meaning that if the herbs could be studied further, the research staff were under the impression that they could create a T-Virus suppression antibody for the USF and UBCS to use when on missions.

_To think, my father's own discovery still lives on in both my pharmaceutical enterprise and my biological weaponry production. I wonder-_

"Mr Spencer, are you well, sir?" Laura asked in concern, placing a hand on his shoulder, causing the rest of the room to fall silent and focus their attention on him.

Spencer nodded slightly, rubbing his tired eyes a bit. "Yes, yes. Of course. Just tired in my old age." He shook his head to clear away his thoughts and focused his attention on the rest of the board. "Now, what were we discussing?"

Christina cleared her throat and tapped her fingers across the polished table surface in a small rhythm. "We wished to ask you how your progress in embedding our power and control into Raccoon City's political structures were going. Since Raccoon City is the main base of our BOW research, we wish to be reassured that there is no troubles going on in that area which could harm or endanger our work, and whether or not we can resolve it," she explained.

Spencer merely held out his hand towards his secretary, beckoning for her to hand her something and Laura hastily passed him the thin manila folder she was carrying in her arms, stepping back to her place beside his chair afterwards whilst Spencer handed the folder on to Christina to read, since he had already read over it many times before to analyze every detail and keep on top of everything that was going on in the still-developing city. "I trust that everything in that folder is satisfactory in regards to our progress on integration in Raccoon City?" he asked with a hint sarcasm in his tone.

Christina narrowed her eyes slightly at the sarcasm in Spencer's tone but decided to ignore it for the best and passed the folder on to Takashi, folding her hands together on the table as she regarded Spencer stoically. "Well, if what the file suggests is true, then we have no need to worry about the provincial authorities in Raccoon City turning against since most of them are either our own employees or under our payroll, and that gives the power to manipulate all of the town's new policies and political moves to be made in our favor, in addition to having some of our own agents placed amongst the press to ensure that no information about our activities is brought to light and all witnesses are removed. And with all of the city's health and economy having to be supplied to them by us, what with the fact that we offer most of the civilians new job opportunities and career advances in the many new pharmaceutical distribution centers that are being built, the public will no doubt feel even more indebted to us since there would be a major in unemployment in the town without us."

After reading through the file, Takashi scoffed slightly as he passed it on to Bienn. "That goes without saying, Miss Henri. Apparently, the provincial government in Raccoon City are relying on us to supply them with more and much larger donations to their growing city in order to fund all the new developments they are currently being discussed by the council. I'd say that the people of Raccoon are becoming a bit too...needy," he stated.

Spencer nodded, an amused grin fluttering on his lips. "Naturally. They have already relied on our generous donations to fund their previous development efforts and the ones that are still being put under renovation from when the town had first been built. The Kite Brothers' railway line can be considered as a good example since we have been providing them donations to build the line back before it had been opened in 1969, and the Raccoon government are now requesting for more funding from us as they have apparently decided to expand the line through the Arklay mountain range to connect with the main line that runs through Latham; they have even promised to build us our own luxury express train for our own VIP guests and highest-ranking employees to travel on through the region, the 'Ecliptic Express' as it has been christened. Quite generous of them. In fact, we are also responsible for the continual growth of their ever-expanding police force and helping the police force to resolve their problems of having to move the Raccoon Police Department to different buildings in the city three times in a row. The first place that the RPD were located was inside the Raccoon City Hall, working out through the main municipal building back in the 60s, since the building was suitable enough to hold the thirty officers who were assigned to work in the town and support the minuscule amount of police cars they had at their disposal by renting out the gas station just outside on the opposite street. However, due to the Mayor's demand to redecorate and renovate the old municipal building, which he has asked our corporation to generously provide funding for, the police station had been moved to an old warehouse located in the Healty District for a couple of years and, because of the need to demolish all of the old lots and buildings scattered around the city to expand the main railway line and the tram transit system, the RPD is now moving to the old art museum uptown and the police force is requesting additional sums of money to fund their renovation of the museum to support all the requirements that they need for their new Police Station. If this keeps up, I estimate that we will actually be in total control of the city's actions and own 100 of their economic values by the next few years at the most," he explained, chuckling slightly at some points in his explanation as if he found something amusing in them.

"Although, there is a point that I would like to clarify, Mr Spencer. In this file, it claims that you are having problems in manipulating the people currently occupying the positions of Chief of Police and the Mayor of Raccoon City, since you can't bribe them over to us or remove them by force without causing suspicion. Have you managed to find out a way to rectify these problems?" Bienn asked, having read through the file already and passed it on to Claxton next to him.

Spencer sighed exasperatedly and sank back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes again as he felt fatigue and stress begin to creep up on him once again. "Well, in regards to the topic under discussion, we have managed to place a man whom we can control into the position of Mayor in the last re-election, thanks to a few bribes to some influential people here and there, and the fact that most of the residing members of council work for us were instrumental in getting this man recruited. The man in question is named Micheal Warren, a former expert railroad engineer who had been one of the best workers in constructing the Kites Brothers' Railway Line and the main person in charge in manufacturing the fully-functional cable car system that is being used in Raccoon City today. And, since he was one of our most firmest supporters in allowing us to fund the development of the Kites Brothers' Railway Line, we should be able to control him well enough to keep our base of power and respect safe in Raccoon City, although we shall have to tread to carefully about giving him orders to fulfill, especially when they conflict with his own personal motivations as his most primary motive behind his mayoral campaign was to help the people, not to expand his own base of power and wealth, but I believe we'll have no trouble from him. The man who is currently the Chief of the RPD however is not someone we can work with at all because, as his train of thinking is...incompatible with our own desires, we can't hope to offer him any down-payments to work for us since he is one of those 'red, white and blue American' types and he would never except a bribe, but we can't control him indirectly either, as he was never a supporting figure towards our establishment of business in the city and he is not susceptible to any threats against him, preferring to go down fighting even though we can't touch him without arousing suspicion. Hence, we are waiting for the arrival of a suitable candidate for us to have run for the position and we can 'arrange' the election to suit his favor," he explained, pulling out another cigar from his case, placing it between his lips and lighting it up.

Claxton silently read through the file, her eyes darting from line behind her thin headscarf, whilst listening to Spencer and Bienn's conversation with half an ear, nodding her head at certain points to show she was still listening, and she passed the file back to Spencer when she was finished, who held out it to Laura to take. "Have you found a suitable candidate to take on the role as the RPD Chief?" she asked, her dark eyes staring at Spencer from behind her headscarf.

Spencer shook his head. "Not yet," he replied, taking a whiff of his cigar and blowing out the smoke.

Claxton merely waved her hand as if to dismiss the topic, a sigh escaping from behind her scarf. "Good help is difficult to find these days. When we need someone to work on our pharmaceutical products, we simply find a person with the necessary qualifications and hire them immediately. But when it concerns our private research on the Tyrant-Virus, there are only a very few people whom you can find that match our incredibly high standards for employment in those fields and you end up hitting a huge obstacle that you are unable to scale. It's amazing how similar how our current dilemmas in both our biological research and political activities can be when you come up with a huge problem like this," she remarked irritatedly.

Sergei cleared his throat and stepped up to the table, catching everyone's attention. "Actually, I have managed to locate a certain individual residing in Raccoon City who might be considered a worthy person to be the RPD Chief," he explained. He then pulled out a manila folder from his trench coat and handed it to Spencer, who opened it up, put on his glasses and began to read.

The file he was reading contained the personnel information about a middle-aged man in his early 30s who was currently living in a house on Fox Street in Raccoon City; the man's name was Brian Irons, 32 years old, blood type B, graduated from Cambridge University and working in the occupation of an art museum security guard, the same art museum that the RPD was planning to relocate to. The picture in the top right corner showed that he had slicked-back brown hair, cold brown eyes and a slight mustache beginning to grow under his nose, which certainly gave him the appearance of a security guard, although judging by what the file stated on him, he would probably fit in more as the fat, worthless lump of man who acted like a guard yet couldn't even without breaking out in a heart attack, the type who acted like they could handle anything thrown at them but lacked the skills to eat a dough-nut without making a mess, since he had put on a considerable amount from after he graduated where as in university he had been complimented on being quite sporting and in perfect physical shape, participating as an athlete for the university sport teams.

Yet, the most interesting part of Iron's history lay down near the bottom of the file where it began to talk about his criminal record and the offenses he had been charged with in his life; apparently, whilst in university, Irons had been indicted in an investigation into the brutal beating and rape of two women, both of whom had been attending the same university and lived in the girls' dormitories, and it seemed that there had been some evidence which all pointed towards Irons as the perpetrator, thus he had been arrested, charged and put on trial. However, Irons' defense attorney had managed to have the charges dropped from his client by proving that all the evidence was circumstantial at best and that the police couldn't provide anything concrete to prove Irons was guilty, in addition to the point in that Irons' defense had made in regards to Irons' phenomenal academic standings and appraisal from his teachers proving that he lacked a substantial motive or reason to commit the crimes. Yet, the judge had ruled that the charges be placed on Irons' record and that he underwent psychiatric evaluation as a consequence to determine whether he was fit to return to society, and naturally he had passed, immediately returning to graduate and move to Raccoon City for work, but Spencer believed it was more to do with escaping his crimes so that no one would be able to ask him about them.

_Oh, Mr Irons. You have been quite a charming individual for your university colleagues, as those two girls could tell. And these rape charges on your shoulders may actually harm your future life if you aren't careful, but I believe you and I can reach a beneficial solution for both of us._

Spencer placed his glasses back inside his pocket, closed the file and handed it back to Sergei, taking another whiff of his cigar in the process. "Have you had a chance to meet with Mr Irons?" he asked, exhaling the smoke.

Sergei sneered in response, an expression of disgust evident on his face. "Yes, I have, though the man is a repulsive individual to be sure. He is a worthless, incompetent, arrogant, self-serving, petty-minded little man with whose thoughts reside only around that which concern his own ambitious dreams of having power in the city. If he believes that we can help him get the position of Police Chief and that we will ensure that he stays in occupation of that position in the RPD, then I am certain he will do whatever we ask of him and he will offer us any kind of assistance that his position allows, in order to keep himself in power over the city, yet I am still questioning his loyalties about whether or not he would continue serving us faithfully when he has the position, since his only concerns are for himself and his own power, and he may feel obligated to ignore or disobey our orders if he assumes it undermines his own power base," he explained, clenching his blade tightly enough in his hands to draw blood, causing Laura to immediately pull out a handkerchief from her pocket and step closer to Sergei to wipe away the blood, but he simply pulled his hand away and shook his head at her, telling her he didn't need any help.

Spencer merely smirked coldly and waved his hand dismissively, showing that he had very little concern over the subject. "Oh, I am certain he will obey our every whim without hesitation or complaints, unless he wants this information about these rape charges being revealed to the press. If words of his crimes made it to the press, they would butcher his entire reputation and tear him down from the career we gave him, thus costing him his own position of power in Raccoon City and ruining his life, or what is left of his life to begin with, whilst we'll just have him removed if he causes any further trouble for us by threatening to expose us and we can just appoint one of our own men onto the position," he answered with his smirk turning into a vicious grin which made the other board members cringe slightly in fear at the sight of it, a grim reminder of how powerful their employer really was and how ruthless he can be when it came to using the might he possessed, some of them having already witnessed his ruthlessness and cruelty in using his power from Umbrella's hierarchy from firsthand experience.

Spencer pushed back his chair and stood up, wiping the smile from his face to replace it with his usual stern cold expression, his piercing eyes regarding each and every one of the board members in turn. "If there is nothing else for us to discuss, I suggest that we adjourn this meeting and get back to more pressing matters," he announced stoically.

Everyone in the room sat still in silence, no one making a motion or saying a word to continue the meeting, all of them simply gazing back at Spencer as his gaze shifted from one to the other, looking for any sign that someone had something they wanted to say, but no one spoke up or raised their hand, so he decided that there was nothing left to discuss and the meeting should be adjourned. However, before the meeting could be called to adjourn, Christina cleared her throat and stood up, drawing everyone's attention to her, her narrowed eyes gazing at everyone sternly without faltering, even when met with Spencer's penetrating stare, her posture absolutely straight and perfect with nothing whatsoever out of place, giving her the cool and regal aura that she was known to possess.

"Begging the board's pardon for my outburst, but there is a matter I would like to discuss with you all. I have required some information that one of the main laboratories under my division's research department has begun the creation of a new method to produce more effective Tyrants by preserving their intelligence even further than the hormone can," she explained, slowly sitting herself down.

Spencer merely stared back at her, trying to discern what her real motives behind her outburst were by reading any hint of emotion on her face, but he couldn't uncover anything beyond the cool icy demeanor she had and decided that there was no point in bantering about it since all that did was waste valuable time, so he instead sat back down in his chair and waited for Christina to begin. Besides, a few months ago, Christina did actually contact him directly to inform him that her division had discovered a new method of preserving the Tyrant's intellect further and that she would like to discuss it in the next board meeting, to which he had agreed fully, so since the meeting yet to be adjourned, she was free to discuss the project in length as she saw fit.

"Very well. You may proceed," he stated.

Christina nodded and rummaged her hands through her pockets for a few brief seconds until she pulled out a small microfilm, holding it out towards Laura for her take, which she did and took it over to the machine, replacing it for the one Takashi had put in earlier. In the meantime, Christina lifted up her suitcase onto the table, opened it up and passed out several pieces of paper to each of the board members around the table, although seemed to look slightly annoyed that they were being kept in the meeting longer than necessary. The pieces of paper that had been handed out were all copies of a large detailed report on a new experimental third-stage BOW that the Umbrella main French laboratories had developed to protect the intelligence of Tyrant hosts from the necrotic effects of the T-Virus, which was called the Nemesis Project. As all of the board members silently read through the report, Laura inserted the microfilm into the projector, giving Christina a slight nod to say she had done her task and handed the other microfilm back to Takashi when she returned to the table. Christina simply pushed the button on the remote and the screen lit up with a full-color picture of one of the NE-Alpha parasites swimming around inside its stasis tank at the lab facility a few miles away from the estate.

"This is the NE-Alpha parasite, or at least one of them, that my research staff have developed a few months back. As the reports you are reading can tell you, we began this project in order to uncover a more productive method of producing Tyrants so that we could get the Tyrant Project moving forward again, since we are all aware of the fact that our T-Virus has reached a massive standstill due to the fact that we are unable to find any human hosts that match the genetic criteria to become effective Tyrants, as they need to possess the gene that allows them to produce sufficient quantities of this hormone to protect their brain cells from the damage caused by the T-Virus' necrotic properties," she explained.

Takashi nodded in understanding. "Well, of course. Our research with the T-Virus has reached a quite difficult obstacle to bypass, what with the problems facing the Tyrant Project, in which we have yet to find any useful method that can help us to create more Tyrants or to find any more suitable hosts to become Tyrants, so I stand by my previous statement on the matter in that we need to acquire new research projects and endeavors to get our biological weaponry development moving again, whether it is focused on the Tyrants or not. Although I can't quite understand why you would choose parasites as your method of prevention."

"Oh, but these parasites aren't any normal parasitic organisms, as you should really know from reading the report," Christina retorted dryly, a small sardonic grin perched on her lips, which caused Takashi to glare daggers back at her. "The purpose of parasites, my fellow colleagues, is that they are meant to take over a specific function in the body of a suitable host by taking over the nerves in a specified part of the body and manipulating to suit their own needs. However, the NE-Alpha has the ability to totally control the host's entire body by attaching itself forcefully to the spinal column and invading the entire brain through by manipulating all of the central nerves; once that is accomplished, we can completely every action of the host by issuing orders to the parasite itself through a small computer chip that is planted in its nucleus, the chip itself harboring a direct link to the White Queen." However, her smile soon vanished and her expression began to grow more fatigued. "But, there are still some problems with the parasites that we are having trouble changing," she stated exasperatedly.

"Are you referring to the problems of the host/parasite compatibility?" Claxton asked, jabbing the paper softly with her finger at the point in question.

Christina nodded solemnly. "It's because the parasites themselves are highly unstable and have an extremely fragile form that can immediately break down if they cannot find a suitable host to maintain their own physical form whilst the inhabit the host to protect its brain from the T-Virus' necrotic properties. You see, whilst the parasites protect the host's brain from further cellular breakdown and manipulate to form an effective BOW, the T-Virus infection and mutations running through the host begins to affect the T-Virus cells inside the parasite itself, causing the parasite's own body to grow larger and further mutate the host. But, if the parasite cannot form a bond between itself and the host's physiological forms, the sudden mutations that affect it from the T-Infection will not stop and the parasite will eventually die out from extreme mitosis in its DNA, with the host following after the brain deteriorates from lack of protection by the parasite. This in turn creates a far more stricter criteria demand for any hosts we use since nearly 75-90 of them will probably be rejected by the parasites," she explained.

Spencer took a final whiff of his cigar, crushed it in the ashtray and was about to reach for another when he noticed his secretary scowl in disgust out of the corner of his eye, her obvious distaste for his smoking habit evident on her face so he decided to leave it for the moment. "These were all discovered from the results of those failed experiments that your science staff had performed with at least four of the parasites on varying BOWs. But it says here that there had been a fifth experiment in which the parasite had been implanted into a Hunter and it has been placed under observation for further testing. May I ask why?" he inclined.

Christina merely pushed the button on the remote again in response, causing the picture of the parasite to slide off-screen and be replaced by another picture, one that made even Spencer's eyes widen in horror. The picture showed a normal Hunter BOW floating in a stasis tank, its eyes closed, wires placed over every part of its body to monitor its life-signs, its body suspended in the green liquid as it slept peacefully in its sedated slumber, but what was most horrific about it was that it had tentacles flowing out of various parts of its body, the purple appendages floating in the liquid alongside it, the areas around the small holes where the tentacles punched through beginning to turn dark brown from scarring and what could be seen as a large swollen lump expanding inside its stomach, causing it to bloat out like a balloon.

"This is the Hunter that had been implanted with one of the parasites as part of the fifth experiment to test the parasites capabilities and on whether the science staff had been able to develop the parasites without any flaws successfully. The experiment went exactly the same as the previous ones, in that the parasite merged with the Hunter successfully and without trouble, but the T-Virus already present inside the Hunter began to affect it and cause it to mutate again, meaning that there was a risk that we would lose the host and parasite like before, so they managed to find a way to prolong the subject for enough time to get it into stasis. But, it seems that the research staff have discovered that, in both the Hunter and the previously failed experiments, when the parasite attaches itself to the brain of a host, it releases a chemical into the brain to prevent the T-Virus from breaking down the host's brain cells and it continues to produce this chemical for the entire time it remains in the body, at least until it begins to break down and die from rapid mutations. Right now, my staff have been able to combine this certain chemical substance found in the parasite hosts with the hormone that Dr Birkin had found in the Tyrant hosts to produce a more enhanced formula that can be used in the Tyrant project and it seems to provide a much more potent defense and resistance against the T-Virus' necrotic effects, even if the subject is still in stasis at sub-arctic temperatures, which preserves enough of the Tyrant's intelligence that it passes the criterion's standards, but they are still conducting further experiments on the hormone to see if they can perfect it and weed out any flaws that might exist in the formula, hence why I allowed the Hunter to be kept in stasis as a base for their experiments." She then sighed exasperatedly and turned to face Spencer. "Which is why I wished to have you inspect, to get your permission to continue this project. I know that it currently hasn't yielded that much results for the corporation to use in our biological research or to provide any help in resolving the Tyrant Project, but if you would allow us as little more time, I'm certain we can acquire something useful for the T-Virus research," she stated grimly, her hands clenched tightly together as she awaited for Spencer's final decision.

Spencer stared back at her for a few minutes before he turned back to the report and began to read through it once again, making sure that he took in every detail and that he understood all of the meanings behind each of the details printed out on the report, so that he was on top of everything and had knowledge of whatever was happening in this new project brought forward to his attention, as his position in Umbrella's hierarchy demanded of him. In his personal opinion, the Nemesis project had certainly yielded some worthwhile results that were invaluable to their research, namely in providing a new method for them to use in resolving the problems with the Tyrant Project, mainly about how they could create more effective Tyrants by using the new solution to preserve more of its intelligence so that it can understand orders issued from the White Queen, unlike the already previous T-001 and T-002, and the NE-Alpha parasites themselves could be seen as a powerful entity in itself if combined with a suitable host to create a more advanced and extremely powerful BOW, one that would obey every order it was given and have the intellect to use whatever methods it chose to get it done, whilst the host would have no free will or independent thought of its own, meaning that that wouldn't be no chance of the BOW running wild and going against their command.

However, there were some rather crippling flaws that could be seen in the project that could actually bring down its effectiveness in productivity and further research value because, although the parasites helped to solve the problem in protecting the intelligence of any Tyrant hosts by using this enhanced chemical to protect the host's brain cells from the degradation caused by the T-Virus, they didn't provide them with a method for them to find more hosts that match the genetic criteria needed to become Tyrants, which was part of the problem to begin that was slowing down production on the Tyrant Project, and the parasites were even more selective than the Tyrant Project criteria as the parasite's extremely fragile form needed a host that could help it maintain its form from any further T-Virus mutations whilst it protected the hosts' brain from the necrotic effects of the virus in the cells. Furthermore, since they had already used five of the parasites to conduct experiments on their effectiveness, they had only seven other parasites left in storage for them and had so far not yet created any more, for reasons that had not been mentioned in this report, either a mistake or that they didn't have a reason to give him.

Plus, there was something about this project that seemed odd to him, making it seem vaguely familiar, causing a part of his brain to tingle in abstract thought as his memory began to stir and attempt to recall something from his mind that he knew about, something that was related to the report held in his hands. He knew that somewhere, somehow, he had heard mention of this project in a conversation he had had with someone else at another time when there were discussions about what to do with their research on the Tyrant Project and a suggestion had been made to use the parasite for an experiment to see if anything could be done with it.

Suddenly, his mind revealed to him what it was searching for, what it was that put him off about the project and the reasons why it did spark a sense of familiarity within him, and with it, he felt his suspicions and anger begin to grow again, directed towards a certain individual back at the Arklay labs in the Raccoon Forest.

"How many people know of this project?" he asked abruptly, trying to keep his anger and suspicions out of his voice as best as he could.

Christina arched an eyebrow at him, seeming perplexed by the question. "Why do you ask, sir?" she questioned in confusion.

"Answer!" he responded sharply, causing everyone in the room to jump slightly in fright at the angered tone.

"Only myself, my bodyguard, you, the rest of us here and the scientists assigned to the project, Mr Spencer. No one else knows about it because I only had a summary of the project uploaded into the Red Queen's archives, since I didn't allow any authorization towards my staff to record the rest of the data in the Red Queen until you yourself had passed your judgment on the project and deemed how useful the data could be to our research. And these reports are the only current records that have all the data acquired from the project ever since the start of it, from the parasites development to the experiments already being conducted on the Hunter in terms of mass-producing this new brain hormone formula; I should know since I was the one who typed all these reports myself privately in my study as a security measure to prevent any spies from stealing anydata on any aspect of our work, so no one else will have read them already," she answered warily, phrasing her words as best as she could so that she wouldn't make Spencer any more angry than he was, staring at the expression on his face cautiously.

But it wasn't Christina or anyone else in the room that Spencer was angry with. It wasn't one of those people inside the room with him that made his face grow bright red in fury, made him take short raspy breaths through his teeth, made his hands clenched tightly around the top of his cane as his suspicions began to run wild and his anger began to rise up him like a black tide. The only other time that Spencer had felt like this was when he had found out that Marcus was planning to betray him and was endangering the corporation, when he thought that he could do whatever he felt like outside of Spencer's orders without any trouble and that he could just simply sever all connections to Umbrella as if it were nothing more than a passing option for him; this was exactly the same type of situation, in regards to the fact that he was acting outside of Spencer's power and was performing rather unwarranted actions that he believed he could do without any trouble since he was employed in a high position in the corporation. However, like his mentor before him, he was quite, quite wrong.

_Wesker! What have you been up to!?_

It had been Albert Wesker who had first gave Spencer a mention of the project a few months ago, back when he had came to see him during one of his visits to the Arklay facility to discuss over everything that was happening in the labs, primarily on the subject of whether or not that he had managed to uncover anything that might help them to get the Tyrant Project back on track, before Christina had made the direct phone call to him in regards to permitting her to talk about the Nemesis Project at the next board meeting. However, during the brief period of time that Wesker and Spencer had spent in his office discussing the Tyrant Project, after Spencer had read through all the data that had been presented to him and Wesker had answered all of his questions on the Tyrant Project as thoroughly as possible, Wesker had mentioned his new plans to embark on an entirely new experiment with Birkin and that they wanted to ask for his help in allowing them to use certain new specimens in their experiment, both of them having apparently decided to leave the Tyrant Project momentarily due to the research on that project having come to a standstill, because they had not yet been able to find any new methods that could help them either protect the intelligence of potential Tyrant hosts from the T-Virus or reduce the incredibly strict genetic criteria that was reducing the range of hosts for them to even work with in solving these problems, and judging from the piece of data which listed the results of the genetic analysis simulation that Wesker himself had uncovered, it seemed that the number of potential Tyrant hosts in the world for the corporation to use was remarkably short.

When Spencer had asked for Wesker's reasons behind this suggestion, he simply replied that they needed to focus on something a bit more productive than their current research on the Tyrant Project, that they had to come up with something more promising to work in order for them to acquire new research material and BOWs to use in their T-Virus projects, that they had to focus that showed a little more promising than what they were already doing since they were getting nowhere fast in solving the problems of how to create more effective and obedient Tyrants. So, Wesker had suggested that he be allowed to perform one of his own experiments with the Nemesis project that had just been recently developed, claiming that he wished to perfect any flaws that might reside in the project by using a specimen of his choosing to see how the parasite merged with its host and what would happen to the host after the parasite is introduced into its body, mainly how it joined with host's brain and coped with the T-Virus infection running through the body,since he believed that there might be a solution to the problem of preserving the intelligence of Tyrant hosts if they could analyze how the brain adapted to the parasite's presence.

However, when Spencer questioned about the product itself and how he came by the knowledge of its existence, and despite how well Wesker had tried to explain it away as a simple rumor about it being floated around the labs and that he had asked questions about it under interest, Spencer could tell that he knew more than he was letting on and was trying his best to keep Spencer from finding out how he knew about it in the first place because he knew that it would have dire ramifications towards him should he be caught trying to find out any confidential information that his position was not privy to. Thus, when the meeting had ended, Spencer had told Wesker that he would take heed of his suggestion and consider it over for some time before he gave his answer, stating that he had to review over the project in general and determine its usefulness in the experiment, but in actuality he was checking over all the personnel data he possessed on Wesker and attempting to discern what his growing suspicions were telling him about the man.

And it appeared he had gotten his answer now; Wesker was indeed abusing his position of power to conduct his own research and experiments for his own ends. Spencer had already caught him once before, trying to uncover personnel information about Spencer himself and the entire corporation in general via his access to the data archives, although he had only narrowly caught Wesker sneaking around the archives and accessing sensitive information as he was a rather calculating and methodical man, taking great care not to leave behind any trace on what he had been up to, but the Red Queen was a far better person at using the computer system since she herself owned the computer systems, detecting a small segment of a data file that was being downloaded by Wesker to his own personnel computer back at the Arklay laboratories. Nevertheless, Spencer gave Wesker a fair warning not to do it again or he would be severely reprimanded should he be caught again, but Spencer knew that he wouldn't listen, that he would attempt it again whilst taking more measures to keep his activities secret, so Spencer had the Red Queen observe his activities on the network and all of his personnel data brought to him for inspection.

Yet Spencer had already thought of the idea that Wesker would probably do something like that since he was the kind of man that only served himself and himself alone, no loyalties to anything else and thinking about his own ambitions, just Spencer thought of him after meeting him face-to-face or the first time. Despite the fact that Wesker was intelligent, fore-thinking, practical, cool, professional and efficient in his work on the T-Virus, as well as on how he managed the entire Arklay laboratories and the staff assigned to it, Spencer knew that the man was only doing all these actions to advance his own status, to follow his own rules and act according to his own ideas, being able to read people and manipulate to use their knowledge, expertise or skills to fulfill his own goals. However, after that incident with Marcus and what had to be done with him, Spencer believed that he could trust Wesker temporarily and handed him the position of Head Researcher as a reward for his services, in exchange that Wesker remember who was in charge of the corporation and that he continue to produce results on the T-Virus research for the corporation to use.

_But he has now begun to act out of his own accord and is trying to access sensitive information about Umbrella, for reasons yet to be known. Whatever his reasons are, I guess I shall have to watch him more closely now, so I can find out what he is really up to and what he is hoping to achieve. I hope for his sake that he isn't planning anything along the lines of what Marcus had been up to, otherwise he and his mentor shall have a very abrupt reunion._

As he did before Christina had requested her permission to discuss the Nemesis Project, Spencer pushed back his chair and stood up, keeping his expression as impassive as possible despite the anger that was surging through him. "Well, since Christina has said her piece on the Nemesis and that everyone here has said what already needs to be said, I suggest that we should adjourn this meeting and return to our work. However, I would like to ask for Sergei to remain behind for a few minutes and for Christina to supply one of the NE-Alpha parasites to the research staff at the Arklay laboratories for one of their experiments," he stated coolly.

Christina arched an eyebrow at his requests. "Why would you want one of our parasites for the Arklay laboratories? If you wish for the project to be continued, might I suggest that my own staff continue working on the project since the parasites were originally created at my facility nearby and all of the staff have all the prior knowledge to conduct any experiments with the parasites without any risks of failures or dangerous consequences?" she asked curiously.

Spencer merely regarded her with a flat stare. "My reasons are my own, but I must ask that you supply one of the NE-Alphas, along with all of the research data about the parasites and all of the failed experiments, to be delivered to the Arklay laboratories as soon as possible. In the meantime, I would like for your division's science team to continue your experimentation on this new brain chemical you had created, so we can determine whether or not it is suitable to help us resolve the problems in preventing the degradation of brain cells in Tyrant hosts and preserving enough of their intelligence to help them understand our orders, and to uncover the possibility of mass-producing it. As for the problem of mass-producing the Beta Hetero Nonsertonin hormone and acquiring additional Tyrant hosts for our experiments on the Tyrant Project, I shall reassign that to a different area altogether whilst the rest of our scientists work on some of the new projects that they have put forward, such as the Chimera Project," he explained. He then turned to Sergei. "Do we have a suitable location that can support all of the research into the hormone and the Tyrant Project?"

Sergei nodded. "Yes, Comrade Spencer. We can use the facilities that we have built on Sheena Island, a small island just off the equator in the Atlantic Ocean. It is the perfect place for the Tyrant Project since it's isolated from the rest of the world, only accessible by helicopter, houses a fully-equipped lab complex for the experiments and a prison to detain the hosts we gather, and that we need pay no concern to any public interference because every single person who resides on that island is an employee of Umbrella, each of them having been involved in any aspect of the T-Virus project since it had been discovered and the research on it had started," he answered, running a finger tentatively across his blade, causing a small cut to open up at the tip.

Spencer smiled at his old friend in a moment of gratitude for his services, then he turned back to the other board members with a straight face, clearing his throat and straightening out his tie a little. "Then, I hereby adjourn this meeting and dismiss you all."

All of the board members nodded their heads slightly at his words and got to their feet, each of them leaving the room one by one after they had gathered all the paperwork and pieces of information that they had brought to the meeting, shutting the door behind them gently with a click, the room empty except for Sergei and Spencer, who remained sat in his chair, his cane resting between his hands and his eyes peering over at the blank projector screen in deep thought.

Sergei stepped around to face the front of the seat and the man still sitting in it. "What do you want to speak to me about, Mr Spencer?" he asked, twirling his blade calmly in his hand.

Spencer's eyes immediately shot up to the Russian man with an allusive, cold stare, which Sergei met with his own gaze and showing no signs of intimidation by it. "What is your opinion on Albert Wesker?" he asked bluntly.

Sergei's lips formed into a slight frown at the name. "In my professional opinion, I would have to say that he is competent, hard-working, focused, intelligent, calm and a capable man to run all of the experiments being conducted at the Arklay laboratories, to maintain order and discipline amongst his staff in case of trouble or delay, and to cope with the hefty demands of keeping the entire facility running efficiently as the Head Researcher. But, I personally find the man ambitious, disobedient, self-serving, arrogant, disloyal to this corporation and to you, Comrade; he is only in this to serve his own reasons and goals, nothing more," Sergei answered, his voice edged with disdain.

Spencer nodded. "Well, it appears your opinion is right. He has currently been attempting to access classified information about myself and the corporation in general by using his high-security clearance as Head Researcher. The Red Queen had managed to find evidence of tampering in some of our files already stored in the archives and has traced back to him at the Arklay labs; he is also attempting to access more recent files and download them through a complex network to his personal computer so that he can analyze them without detection, although I have yet to find out why."

A low growl escaped Sergei's lips and his hands clenched around his blade tightly to draw blood out from his palms, the crimson liquid flowing between his fingers to fall from his hands in small droplets onto the cream colored carpet. "Impudent dog! How dare he even think that he can act as willingly as he pleases! The only reason he has the power and his current position in this corporation is because you gave it to him out of your own command, Comrade Spencer, and now he believes that he doesn't have to heed to your orders, that he can simply betray you and use all of our research to support his own goals, despite all that we have given him and how much of his current success can be attributed to us! He is becoming a menace to our corporation and our work!" he snarled angrily.

Spencer simply stared back at his friend in silence, watching Sergei's teeth bite tightly against his lower lip that he could taste the coppery flavor of blood on his tongue and his eyes boil with rage towards Wesker, but his eyes soon shifted to the blood that dripped from his hands onto the large stain that had formed on the carpet. "I'd advise you to not bleed onto Miss Henri's property and furniture. You know how awful dark liquids such as blood soak into the carpet and become too hard to remove," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

In a flash, the fury and rage glowing in Sergei's functioning eye flickered out like a candle that had been blown out, his hands coming to rest inside his pockets, the blood still flowing freely between his fingers into his trench coat, the blade tucked back into its holster and clipped in place, the scowl on his face vanishing as he faced his friend again. "I apologize for my outburst, Mr Spencer. It was uncalled for," he said, taking a deep breath to quell what was left of his fury. "What do you wish for me to do?"

Spencer was silent for the moment and gave him no answer or reply, instead simply stood up from his chair, picked up his can and made his way to leave the room, Sergei following behind after a gesture of Spencer's hand and shutting the door when they left the room, both of them making their way through the hallways at a brisk pace to where their helicopters awaited for them outside in the front courtyard, paying no heed to neither the small, timid greetings from the scientists and estate staff nor the curt salutes from the guards that they passed along the way. As they stepped outside the front doors, they watched as Christina's limousine left the estate through the large front gate, her cold and ruthless expression visible through the glass windows, turning in the direction to head towards the laboratories through the forests in order to get the parasites and data ready for delivery, whilst each of the other board members embarked on their individual helicopters, the hatches being slammed behind them by the pilots, the engines slowly whirring to life and the rotor blades gradually picking up speed as they spun until the small metal aircraft rose into the air, turned in the direction to which led to their destinations and flew off into the sky, the crafts slowly turning into tiny black specks on the horizon, leaving only two more helicopters behind, McVarian and Laura patiently standing by one of them.

"I would like for you to keep a close eye on Wesker. Have some of your agents monitor his activities inside and outside of the labs. Listen to any conversation he has, check over everything he does, everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to and report all of your findings to me," he ordered as they both crossed the courtyard to their waiting transports.

Sergei nodded. "Of course, Comrade. I'll have my agents in the city and the labs keep watch over him. We'll find out what he's up to and make sure that nothing he does is unknown to us."

Suddenly, Spencer came to a sharp stop and raised his cane in front of Sergei's path, causing him to slow to a stop and gaze at his employer, who glared back at him coldly. "But be sure to use the utmost discretion. Wesker is no idiot and he will certainly not make the same mistakes Marcus did. Although I have already caught him up to something once and gave him my warning, to which I am sure he hasn't obeyed, he will use more caution and cunning to keep himself out of our suspicions since he certainly isn't ignorant of the consequences of such actions. So I warn not to raise Wesker's own suspicions, otherwise we'll lose our chance to find out what he's up to," he ordered with a sharp and forceful edge to his tone.

Sergei simply stared back, unaffected by Spencer's penetrating gaze as he had nothing to hide from him and would never even think of betraying the man he owed his life to, and nodded slowly in response. "Don't worry, sir. We'll be careful," he replied assuringly.

Spencer knew that Sergei was telling the truth, that he would be careful and wary of Wesker's cautious approach whilst he monitored all of his activities, and he trusted Sergei's talent and word immensely, since the man had proved his loyalty time and time again in all of his endeavors for Umbrella; if anything, Sergei and McVarian were the only two people he actually trusted in the entire corporation, both of them the only ones he would place his absolute faith and trust in, and they had never failed his trust at all when he gave it to them. After a few seconds, he lowered his cane and walked over to the helicopter, Sergei heading off towards his where several of his Monitor agents stood waiting at attention, snapping a salute when he got close and he returned it before climbing inside. When Spencer walked over to his transport, he exchanged a curt nod with Laura and McVarian before they all embarked the craft and took a seat, the pilot coming around to check that his passengers were safely seated inside, nodding his head to the cockpit when he was done and slamming the door shut as the rotors began to spin to life, the dull hum of the engine echoing inside the small chamber, the pilots up front speaking onto their headphones to each other as they gently guided the helicopter up off the courtyard, turning it in the direction of the Umbrella HQ in America and flying off into the horizon, Sergei's helicopter flying off in the opposite direction towards the Russian HQ.

On his trip back to the American HQ on the helicopter, Spencer simply gazed out the windows at the passing clouds outside, drowning out all the sounds around him, his hands working automatically to remove another cigar from his lips, place it between his lips and light it up. After all the stress and work that he had to put up with throughout their entire work on the T-Virus and in running the corporation in general, he really needed to relax and forget about everything around him for the moment, since he would need to get back to all of that when the helicopter reached its destination in America.

So he intended to use this small period of peace to relax and relieve himself of some of the stress that he had been carrying around on his shoulders for some time now. And if his secretary complained about him smoking in the small cabin with her nearby, he wouldn't give a shit...

**Hey, everyone!! Here it is!! The next chapter of my fic!!**

**First of all, I have to say how sorry I am that this chapter took me so long to write; I had been job seeking for some part-time work and everything has been rather hectic for me, so I wasn't good time-wise in writing.**

**Also, I should first explain that this chapter was part of the original idea I had for the format of this chapter, but it was too long to put all of it up (REALLY long, it took up 97 pages for me to write the whole thing), and I decided to cut it into segments to make it easier for everyone.**

**Finally, I have to explain that the reason this took so long was because I had planned to use this chapter to help explain away most of the details involved in RE, some of which you will see in this part, and to lay down the groundwork for the rest of the games in preparation for when I write them; this part delves deeper into Umbrella and Spencer, thus I am hoping everyone is still in character here.**

**Anyway, I am REALLY, REALLY sorry everyone for making you wait so long. Hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll put the rest up after a bit of tweaking.**

**(P.S. If any of you can find anything that would improve this, please post me a review with your opinion and I'll get it done. Thanks!)**


	39. Chapter 39

Thirty Nine

July 1st, 1988.

Deep within Raccoon Forest, underneath the large mansion of the Spencer Estate, the entire maze of the Arklay laboratories was alive and frantic with the surge of rapid activity.

Scientists all over the lab facility dashed around throughout the multitude of corridors in non-stop motion, all of them excited and filled with intoxicating scientific curiosity at the new experiment that was about to begin, each and every one of them doing their part to get all the necessary equipment ready to begin, eagerly anticipating what new results they would uncover. Inside the large surgical chamber on Level B3, half of the Arklay research staff engrossed themselves in preparing the entire room for the experiment by sorting out all of the sedatives and tools that they would be using from the large medicine cabinets sitting in the corner, readying the surgical gurney to support and restrain the specimen that the experiment was to be conducted on, supervising the few technicians inside the room that hastily programmed each of the machinery inside to monitor all of the specimen's vital signs and inform of any dangers that could be fatal towards the specimen, and for those who would be doing the experiment were busy putting on the protective gear they needed to prevent them from catching the T-Virus infection.

Meanwhile, the other half of the research staff stood in the corridor outside, observing what was happening inside the room through the large glass window set into one of the walls of the room, each of them either seated by desks with computers on top to record all of the read-outs and data that the machinery inside would transmit to them or stood close enough to the glass to watch everything, pen and paper in hand ready to scribble down endless notes on what they saw. The guards assigned to the experiment stood outside in attention at the door, weapons loaded and held tightly against their chest, keeping watch to make sure that nothing unexpected happened such as what happened the last time they had performed a similar experiment earlier in the project's past for those who were old enough to have been there and to remember what had happened, doing their best to hide their apprehension and fear behind all of their military training.

And from the behind the large glass window opening up the view of the room, Albert Wesker and William Birkin gazed at everyone throughout the room with a scrutinizing gaze, supervising over all that was happening to ensure that there would be no mistakes or problems during the experiment, both of them occasionally pointing out mistakes to someone or handing out orders to another, although Wesker would sometimes straighten his ever-present sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and Birkin would take a small sip of his coffee held in his right hand.

This experiment was of the utmost importance to their research and everything had to be sure to run as smoothly as possible, since what they would uncover from this experiment would hopefully change the stagnant working pace conditions that they were force to work through and provide them with a more suitable and productive method to help them remove all of the massive obstacles that the Tyrant Project had become burdened with. Ever since the Tyrant Project had come to a grinding halt and the fact that there seemed to be no way of crossing the obstacles with what little data or specimens they currently had, nearly enough all of the Arklay research staff were beginning to abandon the Tyrant Project and focus on something more productive that could help them obtain some new results and research data for them to work with, hence why some of the staff were currently working on the Chimera Project in some of the other rooms and Wesker had heard some talk around the laboratories that were more projects being taken under consideration to be used, such as the Eliminators, Stinger or Plague Lurkers. And, although a large number of Umbrella's facilities were currently developing new methods to resolve all of these problems in regards to the necrotic effects the T-Virus had on the brains of Tyrant hosts and finding a way to produce enough of the hormone that could impede the T-Virus infection in brain cells, they still lacked a suitable host to use in either of these methods and it was near impossible to find one, due to the genetic trait necessary for the Tyrant Project was so rare; Wesker was abundantly clear on this fact because he had been the one to acquire the results that informed them of the number of suitable hosts they could find in the US alone, not to mention the rest of the world.

Hence why Wesker had pushed for this experiment to be performed since he believed that they may be able to find something from the results of this venture that could help them resolve some of the issues with the Tyrant Project. During the past few months of working on the Tyrant Project and secretly trying to uncover Spencer's hidden motives, Wesker had uncovered rumors of a third level BOW being created by Umbrella's European Division that had the ability to conquer the problem of protecting the intelligence of Tyrant hosts from the necrotic effects of the T-Virus by using a method that no one else had thought of; the method was known as the Nemesis Project.

The aim of the project was to introduce a living parasitic organism created through DNA manipulation and controlled T-Virus mutations directly into the body of a suitable host, have the organism dominate the entire nervous system of the host and manipulate its brain to protect it from degradation by the T-Virus necrotic effects, whilst the T-Virus infection running through the organism and host would cause both of their bodies to mutate further, thus allowing the organism to become an ulterior mind for the host with enough intelligence for it to understand any orders issued to it by the corporation, and the host itself to gain incredible combat ability and highly-destructive power to become a formidable BOW. And that was one of the main reasons that Wesker found the project satisfactory enough for them to use in their latest experiment because the Nemesis Project helped to resolve the issue of preserving enough of a host's intelligence for it to become a Tyrant, due to the fact that it was no longer necessary to alter the host in any way possible to protect their intelligence from the T-Virus mutations since they were now able to produce the intelligence and the host separately, and then combine them together to form a BOW. Thus in conclusion, if they were able to successfully combine the Nemesis parasite together with the body of the host that he had selected as the test subject for the experiment, they would finally be able to create a more powerful and effective BOW for the corporation than the T-002 Tyrant currently stored down below in the B4 main laboratory.

_Lets just hope that is the case. We still have a long way to go before we can pat ourselves on the back for a job well done. There is a lot about this parasite that we know will cause some problems for this experiment, so we have to be prepared for any possible outcome._

In fact, from all of the data that had been provided along with the parasite itself in the delivery, there had apparently been some previous experiments with the parasite a few months ago to test its effectiveness and all of them didn't go particularly well; when Wesker and Birkin had both read through the file thoroughly to analyze all of the data provided to them, the word 'Failure' had been stamped out at the bottom of the reports on each of the experiments since each of the selected hosts that had been infected with the parasite had died, the reason being that the parasite itself was incredibly unstable.

According to the research information on the parasite and the reports on the experiments that Wesker had read through many times beforehand to cover every detail of the parasite, so that he was aware of anything that could happen in the experiment and could prepare for it, when the parasite is introduced into the body of its host, it immediately dominates the host's entire nervous system by attaching itself to the spinal cord and travels along the cord up to the brain, where it releases a chemical to protect the brain cells from the necrotic effects of the T-Virus, but whilst the parasite is releasing the chemical into the brain, the T-Virus infection currently spreading through the host continues to mutate its body and, eventually, the T-Virus cells inside itself are re-activated by the T-Variant mitochondria that are produced by the infected cells and spread throughout the host, in turn causing the parasite's own form to mutate and develop into a larger form.

But the problem was that, since the parasite itself was extremely fragile and highly unstable, they needed to find a suitable host for them to form a perfect bond with their physiological structures in order to maintain its own form as the T-Virus continues to mutate it whilst the parasite keeps the host's intelligence at a suitable level by preserving its brain cells from the necrotic attributes contained in the T-Virus, otherwise the parasite would suffer a massive breakdown at the cellular level due to extreme mitosis occurring in its DNA and die from the bodily mutations induced by the T-Infection, the host following shortly after because of the extreme degradation that damages its brain without the parasite protecting it. Naturally, the most logical choice would be to create a suitable host for the parasite to bond with fully to maintain its original form during the T-Virus infection whilst the parasite infects and manipulates the brain, meaning the only suitable BOW that could support the parasite would have to be a Tyrant. But the problem was that, although the parasite's own abilities solved the problem of preserving the Tyrant's intellect, there weren't that many human beings out in the world who had the necessary genetic structure to become a Tyrant, mainly in regards to possessing the rare genetic trait that allowed them to produce the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin hormone. And even if they possessed the ability to produce the hormone, they still had to be able to produce the hormone in sufficient enough quantities, not only to protect their brain cellular structure, but to control the mutational properties of the T-Virus so that it didn't mutate their body too violently that they would be incompatible to maintain the parasite, which meant that the chances of either finding or creating a suitable host for the parasite were significantly decreased.

However, Wesker had managed to come up with a method of overcoming this problem. Since all of the flaws in the Nemesis stemmed from one major point, in that if the parasite failed to bond with the host's physical and genetic structures, the parasite itself would undergo a massive cellular breakdown from the extreme mitosis in it's DNA and the rapid mutations to it's body that the T-Virus caused, which would eventually shut down the parasite's ability to protect the brain from the virus' necrotic effects and degrade the brain cells to such an extent that the host died within five minutes, the parasite itself following the host after another fifteen minutes. Thus, all the Arklay researchers had to do was find a way to prolong the life of the host for a greater extent so that the parasite would either mutate further inside the host's body and provide them with some new research data for them to use before both of the organisms died, or if their chances were high enough, the parasite and the host would merge successfully and become a superior BOW for them to use, which would grant them all the credit behind one of the best advancements in the Nemesis Project.

But, Wesker wasn't one to leave things to chance, since one could never see exactly how high the stakes were against you, and you could never know what was the reward for winning or the price of losing until it was too late, meaning there was the grim chance that you would end up gaining nothing for yourself and losing everything you had worked, so he had decided not to use any host that bore any importance to the corporation, such as the Hunters or the Tyrant, and opted for them to conduct the experiment something that neither the staff nor the corporation in general would have any concern over the consequences that could happen it during the experiment. Hence the reason why they had all decided to use the young woman specimen, Lisa, as the test subject for the parasite because, after all the years of being administered every possible strain of both the Progenitor and T-Virus, after all of the times that she had been used as a test subject for the most horrific of experiments and all of the incomprehensible torment she had endured throughout her entire time as the main test subject for all of Umbrella's biological weapons, she still miraculously survived it all by some unknown trait that had yet to be uncovered, even after all of the advances that had been made to the T-Virus research they still couldn't figure it out, and had simply been sealed inside the prison cells on Level B3, her body and what was left of her mind still stubbornly avoiding the peaceful death she must continuously yearn for, so they believed that this unknown factor may keep her alive during the implantation procedure long enough for them to acquire the new data they sought from the Nemesis parasite or to change into a new superior class of BOW. Besides, even if she did die from the process, it was of little consideration to neither Wesker, Birkin, Spencer nor Umbrella, since she hadn't provided them with any new or useful information for them to use at all throughout the past decade or so, and was criticized as a complete and utter failure to their ventures, instead fading away into the memories of the Arklay staff as a old wife's tale about ghosts and specters, living up to her title as 'The Ghost of the Spencer Mansion'.

_In any case, what ever happens here will at least provide us with something new and worthwhile to investigate for our research, at least until we have managed to overcome the problems with the Tyrant Project. And even if she does die, I imagine what humanity she has left in her will be glad to end this hellish existence she has been forced to endure._

Wesker continued to stare at the room beyond the glass in a trance, his eyes barely registering anything that was happening around him whilst his mind continued to think over every piece of detail he had memorized until Dr Sarton walked up beside and cleared his throat, bringing Wesker's attention towards him. "Everything is ready, sir. We have the necessary links to the surgical machinery inside the room established and ready to record the results, and our staff are ready to jot down any notes that they observe during the experiment," he stated, his voice seeming to shake with anticipation.

Wesker nodded and walked towards a small box placed onto the window's base, reaching out his right hand to the box and pressing down on one of the buttons. "Is everything ready in there?" he asked through the small microphone extending outwards from the box top.

One of the men dressed in the surgical clothing hastily ushered the technicians and other staff outside the door once they were finished, the doors automatically slamming shut behind them with a clank, before he turned towards the glass, his face nearly enough hidden behind the face mask he wore over his mouth and the goggles placed across his eyes. "Yes, Dr Wesker. All of the equipment in here is prepared to monitor the specimen's physical condition throughout the experiment and transmit all of the results we find to your computer stations out there. We have all of the necessary tools and sedatives that we require for the experiment, and are ready to begin when you give the word," he informed Wesker, his voice, although slightly muffled by the mask, brimmed with the professional calmness that one needed for these kind of operations.

Birkin scoffed in disdain. "As if we ever needed to perform this experiment in the first place; to use another division's project for our own research is utterly preposterous and a complete waste of time. We have made far more valuable advancements and effective BOWs in ten years of work than any of those other petty idiots could have done in thirty, and we had even been involved from the start of the T-Virus project right up until the development of our first Tyrant. I fail to understand why we should even be considering to work on something that another, more inept, division has come up with to use for our own scientific endeavors, especially with something as flawed as the Nemesis if one would simply just examine all of the data we had been provided with," he boasted with a hint of what Wesker had deduced as arrogance, taking a small sip of his coffee.

Wesker merely ignored Birkin's prideful outburst and turned to face him, his cool eyes gazing at the bored expression on Birkin's face, his own expression calm and collected as usual. It was no surprise that Birkin showed no interest or consideration towards the parasite and the experiment in general because, as everyone who had worked with him, definitely including Wesker, over the past few years on the T-Virus research, William Birkin was a rather prideful and egotistical man towards all of his accomplishments he had made in the T-Virus research and he took great satisfaction in the large amount of praise he had always received from the corporation for his genius in the fields of science, but if anyone was able to surpass all of his achievements or have the praise of the entire corporation shifted towards them, he would often become extremely envious that he was losing all of the corporation's attention to someone else, which would then coax his competitive nature into sparking a bitter rivalry between himself and this other individual he considered as his 'rival', although Wesker (and of course Spencer) knew full well that this entire business with rivalries was all in Birkin's head. One of the most notable examples was obviously back during the brief period when the acclaimed prodigy, Alexia Ashford, had arrived on the scene and was employed into Umbrella's biological weaponry development projects as a Head Researcher at the age of 10, shattering Birkin's most esteemed 'award' for being the youngest person to be working for the corporation at such a high position by the age of 15, since that so-called 'rivalry' had led to the Arklay laboratories fall into utter chaos, what with Birkin's harsh temperament, jealousy towards his 'rival' and impossibly fast work-pace resulting in the deaths of several of their BOWs and test subjects, due to the rapidly declining amount of resources the labs had suffered from and the staff's inability to keep pace with Birkin as he repeated every disorganized experiment one after the other in an attempt to reclaim what he had lost.

Thus, it had been no surprise to Wesker that Birkin didn't really pay any heed to the parasite or showed any optimism to the prospects of a successful outcome to the experiment because, like most of the other scientists assigned to the Arklay laboratories and (possibly) some of Umbrella's other American facilities, he shared in the larger competition that was waged between all of Umbrella's global divisions. Ever since Umbrella had been established and their research on biological weaponry had started with the Progenitor, each of Umbrella's Divisional Directors had begun to fight amongst themselves in an attempt for one of them to obtain the most favor and respect from Spencer, since they all knew how much power that single man had throughout the entire corporation as its last remaining founder and chairman, meaning that as he was getting older, sooner or later he would have to pass down the title of chairman to someone else to carry on the corporation, so each of the Divisional Directors were continually competing with each other in a bitter rivalry in an attempt for one of them to obtain the most favor and promise in Spencer's eyes so that they would be handed the position of Umbrella's chairman to them by Lord Spencer when he passed away. However, the fierce competition didn't merely involve just the directors themselves, but instead constituted to all of the individual scientists working under their command, since they were also shared in the divisional rivalries to obtain the most favor and esteem in Spencer's point of view, but their competition was more focused around earning recognition for all of the advancements they had made in the BOW programs and out of satisfaction for their own pompous arrogance that their own division had uncovered far more productive results than any of the others, thus Birkin himself, in all actuality as one of the American Division's most promising scientists, was a key player in this rivalry in recognition for his own accomplishments, hence why he disapproved with using the parasite at all.

Wesker, however, saw a small amount of value in the entire project, after reading through all of the parasite's research data and the personal notes that the project leaders had posted onto the reports about what their future intentions were in regards to using it to solve the problems with the Tyrant series, and he believed that there would be able to uncover something of a minute use towards their own BOW production with this experiment and the parasite. At least he hoped that there would be something to gain out of it, especially after all the red tape he had to wade through in order to get the damn thing delivered to him, since none of the divisions ever traded research data or BOW specimens with one another, due to the fact that they were under the assumption that if they handed it over to another division, then they would lose out on any new results that could provide them with an advantage over their competitors. Actually, the only real reason that Wesker had been able to get the parasite delivered to Arklay was through the support Spencer had given him by removing all of the political banter and red tape involved around the delivery, so that it had been easier to persuade the European Division's scientists to have the parasite delivered to him, although Wesker was quite surprised that Spencer was even bothering to help him after the fact that he had found about Wesker's private investigations into his motives behind Umbrella's establishment and his continued support of the BOW programs, despite the expenses it was costing him and the consequences that revolved around it should anything go wrong.

"I understand your apprehension about this whole aspect about using the parasite in our experiment, but you have to understand the broader picture, William. Despite what your opinions are on the parasite itself and how you may perceive the usefulness of the experiment in general, you have to understand that we need all to focus our efforts onto something more productive, something that can provide us with some new results for us to work with in our own BOW projects, since the Tyrant Project has become overburdened with problems and delays as of late. I know you may believe that with another few years, we will be able to solve all of these problems and create an effective Tyrant that even Spencer will find satisfactory to the corporation's opinions, but what you fail to understand is that Spencer isn't a patient man, that he will continually question our progress and demand results from us, and he will not continue to support us unless we provide with something that is remotely satisfactory towards his demands or uncover a new approach to our T-Virus research that could perk his interests, otherwise he will deem us unfit for our positions and have us replaced by someone who CAN fulfill his demands," he explained stoically. He then leaned slightly closer and added in a low whisper, "You and I have already witnessed what happens if one doesn't heed to his command and authority."

Birkin snapped his head up at Wesker, his eyes wide in shock and surprise at that remark, his mind recognizing what, or who, he was referring to and his mind vividly recalling what had happened then, since neither of them could ever forget that day which had happened only a decade ago. "Yeah, I understand. But I still don't approve of this," he replied scornfully.

Wesker turned his head back up to the glass and straightened his sunglasses. He knew he had Birkin convinced enough to have his assistance in the experiment and understand the reasons behind why they were performing the experiment to begin with, since he was fully aware that their research on the Tyrant Project had reached a critical drawback due to the fact that they were unable to find any suitable hosts that matched the genetic criteria for them to be used in either testing their new methods of preventing the necrotic damage to their brain cells, of producing more of the hormone at sufficient quantities to protect their brain cells from the T-Virus infection or to even begin creating any more Tyrants for the corporation to use. And until they found a suitable solution to bypass all of these problems and located a large number of hosts to use in testing their new theories or methods, their research would not be able to make any more progress at all, even if they were to slave away frivolously for another several years searching for these solutions with what little they had.

Which was one of the main reasons why Wesker had suggested this experiment for them to do in the first place because, since the Tyrant Project was making no advancements or producing effective Tyrants for them so far, they all needed to focus on something that was remotely productive in the least for them to find new research material or create new specimens that might be worth some usefulness in their BOW programs and enough to satisfy Spencer's demands for an extended period time that they could utilize to figure out how to get their Tyrant Project moving forward again. Besides, as Birkin had complained incessantly about over the past few months before the parasite arrived at midnight on that same day, the parasite itself was a recently developed organism created by another division and it possessed many flaws that could be quite disastrous of their own BOW research since it was originally meant for a third-level BOW like the Tyrant series and, in regards to the rivalries between each other, the divisional employees and director were unwilling to reveal any critical information about their own research and BOWs to each other (unless directly ordered by Spencer himself), thus they could only use the parasite for testing purposes on this single experiment and all of the results they would obtain from this endeavor was all that Birkin would allow for them to use in their own research, being as competitive as he was.

Wesker simply nodded in return to Birikin's statement, taking that as the end of their conversation and turned to look at all the scientists behind him, all of them fully prepared and awaiting his command to start the experiment.

"Tell the guards to bring in the specimens," he ordered.

One of the scientists nodded at his command, walked over to the corner and stuck his head around to look at the guards, barking out harsh commands for them to bring in the woman from her cell to the surgery room and the guards responded with a quick affirmation, before they ran off to get her, their footsteps fading away into silence. In the meantime, another one of the scientists had left the area at a brisk jog, heading off to retrieve the parasite from storage, his footsteps echoing slightly in the vast hallway, followed shortly after by the sound of creaking metal hinges and a door being slammed shut with a loud bang that briefly stung Wesker's ears. It took a few more minutes before the sound of the creaking hinges and the door being slammed shut were heard again, the footsteps of the scientist hurrying back towards them yet he didn't join them again by the window, instead he opened the door to the surgery room and stepped inside, handing over to the Head Surgeon, Dr Crackhorn, in charge of the experiment, a large thick metal cylinder that was about 12 inches in length, a circular hatch placed on the top with a small tiny hole that bore down into the tank and a rectangular glass placed on the side of the tank revealed the NE-Alpha parasite floating peacefully inside, its eye darting around the room in rapid glances and its tentacles calmly floating underneath its round body, its appearance resembling something of a malformed octopus.

Crackhorn walked over to one of the counters by the double doors and placed the cylinder in his hands down onto the stainless steel tabletop, took out a syringe from his pocket and removed the plunger at the top before holding out his hand towards the other surgeons standing idly by, awaiting his orders. "Hand me the transmitter," he demanded.

One of the surgeons nodded and pulled out a tiny circular piece of metal the size of a molar from one of the drawers in the second counter by the door, a single red light flashing periodically in the middle, and placed it gently in Crackhorn's hand, who immediately dropped it inside the syringe's tube, replacing the plunger in the syringe's top afterwards, slowly slid the needle through the small hole in the cylinder's hatch, the tip of the needle lightly piercing through the parasite's skin into where it's brain would be, pushed down on the plunger and forced the tiny transmitter through the needle and into the parasite's body, the parasite itself showing distress or signs that it had noticed the injection.

"Transmitter's in place," Crackhorn announced, looking up at the glass window. "Are you receiving anything on your end?"

Wesker turned towards one of the scientists seated by one of the desks, watching him hastily type on the keyboard, his eyes utterly focused on the screen. "Just a few more...There! Signal's coming in loud and clear," he stated confidently, turning the screen in Wesker's direction for him to see the series of peaks and dips that spiked along the flat green line on the screen, showing that the parasite's vital systems were functioning probably and in normal parameters.

"Good. Make sure you record all of the data on the the parasite provided by the transmitter," he ordered sternly, the scientist nodding slightly and turning back towards the computer screen which he turned back to its original position. Wesker turned back towards the glass and pressed the intercom button on the box beneath the glass. "Crackhorn. Remember to be absolutely certain that the subject is secured tightly to the table and that she is properly sedated for the procedure. She needs to be able to survive the procedure long enough for us to acquire results from her merging with the Nemesis organism."

Crackhorn nodded curtly and turned away to sort through the syringes spread out along one of the surgical trays standing next to the gurney, giving off a slight shudder as his mind vividly recalled the first time that they had lost control of the woman specimen. Wesker knew all the details about that little escapade during one of his discreet investigations into Spencer, reading through the reports about how she had killed her the other test subject and escaped from the room, killing some guards and scientists in a fierce rampage before she escaped from the labs to the woods outside, causing a great deal of trouble and concern for the corporation once she started lurking around the mansion grounds and attacking any employee she encountered, tearing off their faces and wearing them over her own, which she still possessed to the present day.

_No worries anyway. The sedatives we are using are the same ones that are being used on the T-002 downstairs, so she will be safely incapacitated throughout the whole experiment. All we have to worry about is keeping her alive long enough to merge with the parasite and cause some form of reaction that could provide us with some new results._

Another few minutes of waiting patiently passed by in silence, each of the scientists either standing close to the glass, tapping their pen lightly on the paper in their hands, or sitting by their computers, fingers beating out a rhythm on the desktop, Wesker having his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze fixed upon the glass, occasionally reaching his hand up to straighten his sunglasses, Birkin simply groaned impatiently as he waited, either sipping his coffee or glancing at his watch, his expression bored and uninterested in what was happening. However, their wait was soon cut short as the silence in the hallway was penetrated by an unearthly moan from what sounded like an ill woman, followed by the footsteps of the guards marching back towards the surgery room and chains rattling loudly as they dragged the test subject towards the room, causing the woman to shriek slightly, the sounds causing all of the scientists to jump in fright and Birkin to cringe slightly, almost spilling his coffee over the floor as the cup jumped slightly in his hands, sloshing the dark brown liquid; and from what Wesker could see of his reaction through the glass, Crackhorn was absolutely pertrified by the woman's voice, his forehead breaking out in a full sweat, despite the fact that it wasn't exactly hot in the laboratory complex due to the temperature control, and his hand clutched tightly to his chest as if he were having a heart attack. Slowly, the doors to the surgery room opened, the surgeons backing away from the doors as they opened, stared at the doorway with wide frightened stares, and the two guards who had been standing watch outside the doors stepped inside, both of them pulling on a long metal chain that led to something outside the door, struggling to pull the creature outside through the door, accompanied by a lot of cursing and grunting. Then, as if it were an unholy demon gradually made it's way from Hell to Earth, the young woman Lisa was pulled through the door little by little, hissing and snarling at the guards that dragged her along by the manacles locked on her hands and the chains around her ankles, pulling back against them and the chain as she attempted to escape.

Over the years of being locked away in the laboratories unattended for the entire period of time that Umbrella had been focused on their T-Virus research and the Tyrant BOW series, Lisa hadn't really changed much, if not at all, since the first day Wesker had Birkin had been introduced to her by Spencer on their new assignment to the Arklay laboratories. She was still wearing the same (and only) piece of clothing that had been provided to her by Umbrella for the past few decades, the once-white and ancient hospital gown that had now turned completely brown and gray from the amount of dirt and dried blood that had splashed over the front, the edges around her arms, neck and waist were tattered and ripped in several places, revealing the mud-caked skin beneath the gown, several small syringe marks that had begun to scar decorated across both her arms from her wrists to her elbows. Her hands were chained together by a large square wooden manacle that encased her entire wrists, the manacle itself resembling something along the line of a mini-medieval stockade, both sides of the manacle were held together by several gold padlocks that were inserted through the small metal hoops placed on both sides of the clasp, two long metallic chains having been locked into the hoops by the padlocks that extended long enough for the guards to drag her along at a safe distance. Two thick metallic manacles were locked onto her ankles by a padlock on a small metal hoop by the clasps with a chain running between both ankles and locked into place through the hoops of the clasp, causing her to stumble slightly as the guards forced her along into the room.

And, the most grotesque feature she possessed that even made Wesker's stomach churn and his throat fill with bile, the many faces of the hapless people she had killed were still worn over her own face, the grim and macabre face-masks that enveloped her entire head beginning to turn green from rot and age, pieces of stale and dehydrated flesh slowly flaking away and tearing in several places, yet the fixed expressions of horror and agony never faded away from the faces, their mouths still open wide in what must have been their last screams. However, the mask did very little to hide the black rotten teeth that were fixed into a snarl from behind split gums and torn lips at the people around or the insane, bloodthirsty, rage-filled and spiteful eyes that glared at all of them through the multitude of rotting flesh and screaming masks. However, it seemed that, after she had been deemed a failure and left to rot away, Lisa had been starved of food for quite some time, her entire body had grown more thinner than it had been the last time Wesker had seen her, since barely anyone paid any heed to her due to the large amount of research they were focused on with the Tyrants, Hunters and the T-Virus, thus the staff had neglected to feed her often enough to keep her healthy, yet the lack of food didn't appear to be much of a problem because the viruses continually flowing through her body were apparently keeping her alive still, enforcing her title as 'the immortal one'.

_Hopefully, her lack of food hasn't weakened her considerably enough that she won't merge with the parasite successfully. We just need to survive long enough for her to merge with the parasite and provide us with some useful results, for once in these few years._

Wesker pressed the button on the intercom and leaned closer to the microphone. "Hurry and get her restrained on the gurney, then have the guards wait outside and lock the door when they leave. But be careful not to let her bite you or get any of her blood in your open wounds," he warned them grimly. He then turned to face the group of scientists behind and picked one out at random with a point of his finger. "You. Call the rest of the security detachment in the security room on this floor and tell them we need help to restrain the 'woman'," he demanded before turning back to look through the window at the commotion in the surgery room.

The scientist nodded and walked over to one of the desks placed by the window, picking up the small black telephone placed next to the computer on top and quickly dialing the number for the B3 security room, the phone ringing at least two times before someone answered and the scientist began issuing quick orders to the man on the other end, the conversation lasting a few minutes before the man on the other end hung up and the scientist put the phone down into the receiver.

"Security are sending six guards down here to help and they are brining down some of the Spark Shot weapons, just in case she attempts to escape. They'll be here in five minutes," he informed them, pulling up a chair and sitting himself in front of the computer, his eyes focusing immediately on the streams of digital data flowing across the screen, his fingers rapidly gliding over the keyboard. Wesker simply nodded in response, his attention focused on how well the two security men were faring in getting Lisa to co-operate and get her onto the table whilst all of the surgeons cowered in the corner. Birkin, although he acted calm and seemed to be content with watching as he sipped his coffee, was quite anxious about what was happening inside the room since his left hand was clenched tightly onto his tie and he was biting down onto his lower lip from out of the corner of Wesker's eye, most likely afraid that some kind of accident was going to occur, that maybe the 'woman' would escape and go on a rampage in the woods or that she would bite one of the people near her and begin to spread the viruses thriving inside her.

After a few seconds, providing a sense of all round relief for everyone there, the sound of several running footsteps could be heard coming from down the hallway near the stairs that led to Floor B2, the footsteps gradually getting louder as they approached the general direction of the surgery room, along with a sound that Wesker believed was metal and wiring being rattled as the guards came closer, until six guards burst through the doorway of the surgery room and ran to the other guards assistance, two of them grabbing hold of Lisa under her arms to drag her towards the gurney whilst keeping their fingers and hands far away from Lisa's gnashing teeth in caution of the viruses coursing through her system, and the other two immediately grabbed hold of each of the chains that were attached to Lisa's manacles, helping their colleagues to pull the 'woman' over to the table. Crackhorn and his surgeons merely continued to back away from the struggles and fighting in front of them, all of them near enough pushed back against the farthest corner of the room, more so out of fear of the female test subject than obligation to keep out of the guards way as they battled to keep Lisa from escaping.

Lisa continued to snarl and scream in rage at the people around her as she was dragged towards the table, lunging towards the guards beside her or the people that attempted to keep their distance from her, either raising her manacled hands to strike them or gnash her teeth at them to bite them, to cause something that would give her the chance to escape and get away from her prison. But any attempt she made was unsuccessful, the guards and surgeons wisely keeping away from her as best as they could, and the guards finally got her to the gurney, each of them hoisting her up roughly onto the gurney and pinning her down onto the table with all their strength, Lisa herself roaring and struggling wildly in their grips. Hastily, one of the guards moved towards her ankles with a small bronze key in his hand, slid the key into both padlocks and unlocked them, pulling off the locks, manacles and chains from her ankles, and quickly wrapping thick leather straps around her ankles whilst the others held her down, doing them up tight to restrain her securely. In a flash, amidst struggles and roars, curses and yelled orders, they repeated the same procedure with her hands, removing the manacles, locks and chains from her wrists, then fastening her down with the straps at the head of the gurney, until she was laying down on her stomach with her arms and legs spread to the corners of the gurney, hissing and snarling at them as she feebly struggled to escape the straps.

Seeing that she was securely restrained on the gurney, all of the surgeons sighed with immense relief and thanked the guards with a few pats on the back or handshakes, the guards nodding their heads with a grin, before they ushered the security guards outside the room and closed the door, one of the surgeons locking it by inputting a code in a keypad next to the door, the lock slipping into place with a whir and a click.

Having now calmed down from the struggle with Lisa and his fear of what could happen if she got lose, Crackhorn strolled over to the gurney and slipped on a pair of plastic gloves, then held out his hand towards the surgeons around him. "Syringe and the Tyrant Class sedative," he demanded sharply.

Before any could make a move at all, Birkin leaned over to the intercom and pushed the button. "Make sure you don't use excessive amounts of the sedatives on her. We can't risk any collateral damage to the parasite when it is introduced," he stated sternly.

Crackhorn looked up at the glass and nodded curtly in response to Birkin's statement, then glanced over to the surgeons behind him and repeating his demand for a syringe. One of the surgeons snapped out of his stupor in staring blankly at the female specimen strapped to the metal gurney and hastily walked across to the small surgical tray next to the gurney, checking through all of the tools and implements that were spread along the tray until he came up with a 5cm cubed syringe and a small bottle filled with a clear white fluid, holding them both out to Crackhorn, who took them both from the man and then stuck the syringe into the small cork placed in the top of the bottle, releasing his finger off the plunger to fill it with some of the clear fluid and stepped closer to Lisa to administer the sedative. As the man leaned forward to slide the syringe into her arm, Lisa shot him an angry and spiteful glare through the horrid decaying masks enveloping her head, roaring out in fury and hatred at the people around them before she once again began to wildly struggle against the straps restraining her in order to escape from her captivity, the straps rattling against the corners of the gurney and holding firmly in place despite Lisa's struggling.

Crackhorn leaped back in fright at Lisa's sudden actions, backing into the tray behind him and almost knocking all of the items on top across the floor, but one of the other surgeons rushed forward and caught the tray before it collapsed. Crackhorn hastily wiped his forehead with his lab coat sleeve and took a few deep breaths to calm his frightened nerves before he turned around to the surgeons behind him. "Alright. I would like two of you to hold down one of her arms for me to inject the sedative safely. The rest of you, prepare the machinery for Wesker and Birkin to monitor all of the subject's vital signs from their computer stations outside," he ordered, picking out two of the surgeons at random with a point of his finger.

The two surgeons who Crackhorn had picked out both looked at the man in disbelief at the order he had given them and swallowed down the hard lumps that had formed in their throats, both of them shifting their gaze towards the specimen strapped to the gurney, looking very afraid and apprehensive to step closer to Lisa, even though she was securely restrained, since both of them had heard some of the rumors that had floated around about her superhuman strength and what had happened when she had last escaped. But, from the look on Crackhorn's face, they knew they had no choice or saying in the matter, so they slowly walked closer to the gurney, trying their best not to look at the harsh glare that Lisa was giving them through her face-masks, and they tentatively reached out their hands towards her arm, grabbing hold of it and tightly pressing it down on the smooth metal surface, keeping a firm hold on it as the 'woman' shrieked and attempted to wriggle her limb out of their grasp.

Once one of Lisa's arms was pinned down, Crackhorn leaned over and slid the needle through the skin into her vein, a small trickle seeping past the needle from the puncture in the skin and vessel, taking great care and precision not to miss the small blood vessel in the arm as Lisa shook her limb to free herself, pressing down on the plunger once he was sure it was safely inside and forcing the sedative into her vein. And in just a few suspenseful seconds, the sedative began to take effect and Lisa's shrieking gradually began to grow quieter, her struggles beginning to lose more energy until, after one last small moan, she slumped down onto the gurney, breathing lightly in her slumber.

Everyone, both inside and outside the room, waited patiently to see if the sedatives had fully worked on Lisa and that she would show no signs of waking up, keeping their gazes firmly fixed upon her still form, all of them harboring the suspicions that the sedatives hadn't worked and she was feigning her slumber, waiting for them to lower their guard enough for her to escape her captivity, to lash out at them in her intense fury and madness. Yet she made no move or indication whatsoever to show that she was still awake, her entire form having grown still and quiet save for the soft breathing and the way her chest heaved in and out from the breaths of oxygen she took in, so they quickly set to work on hooking up the various pieces of machinery in the surgery room to monitor Lisa's vital signs, picking up the long sleek black plastic wires that trailed from the base of the machines towards the metal gurney, each of them possessing a different implement on their exposed ends that were designed to monitor the many different vital signs of the test subject's body (which were a long sharp probe, a two-pronged nozzle and two small needles) and inserting them into the various parts of the body where they were required to be, although two of the surgeons let out a disgusted groan and squinted their eyes shut in revulsion as they slipped the probe into Lisa's temple and the nozzle into her nose, both of them having to slide their hands through Lisa's various face-masks and feel the rotting decaying flesh scrape across their fingers, even though they were both wearing protective gloves over their hands.

When all of the surgeons had inserted all the necessary implements into Lisa to monitor her vital systems and had stepped back from her, warily observing as her chest rose and fell in slow breaths, her eyes firmly closed behind her face-masks and her body still slumped against the gurney, showing that the sedative was keeping her very much asleep, Crackhorn walked over to one of the machines by the gurney and proceeded to type in a series of commands on the keyboard, his fingers gliding over the keyboard in rapid strokes and his eyes fixed on the programs that played over the screen, activating all of the systems to monitor Lisa's vital signs and transmit all of the data to the computer stations outside the window to be recorded. As the last of Lisa's vital signs began to appear on the screen in front of him, the steady peaks and dips flashing along the long flat lines with a high-pitched pinging to indicate that she was still healthy and unharmed by the sedative, he opened up the data link to the terminals outside and hit the button to transmit the same scans to the terminals outside, looking up at the glass in wait for a response from Wesker and Birkin.

Wesker turned around to glance at all the scientists behind him, half of them currently writing down notes in fast curving motions on their hand-held ledgers and the others busy typing away on the keyboards, attempting to open up the data link and begin recording the data being transmitted from the equipment in the room. "Are you receiving the signal?" he asked sternly.

No reply came to him outright, all of the scientist now fully immersed in their world of scribbling and typing out notes or commands, but one of the scientists looked up at Wesker and span around the monitor for him to see the same rising-and-falling green lines that were being flashed on the machines inside the room. "Data's coming through loud and clear," he replied in confirmation.

Wesker nodded and turned back to the glass, leaning forward and pressing the button on the intercom, his mouth a few inches from the microphone. "Begin the experiment," he ordered.

Crackhorn nodded and returned to his place by the gurney, holding out his hand towards the other surgeons around him. "Scalpel," he requested, his tone of voice returning to the professional coolness and precision from before.

One of the surgeons nodded and walked over to the surgical tray nearby, rummaging through the tools momentarily and deciding on a razor-sharp curve-bladed scalpel, giving a quick examination to determine if it was suitable to use by checking over the blade's sharpness and durability before he placed it Crackhorn's outstretched hand. Crackhorn then held the scalpel firmly in his hand, fingers kept well away from the blade that glinted in the light, and lowered it down to Lisa's lower back, applying enough pressure to break through the skin and muscle of her back, yet ensuring that he was gentle enough that he didn't force the scalpel too far down through her thin skin and hit the spine beneath, slicing a neat hole along Lisa's spinal column from the middle of the lumber vertebrae to the point above the end of the column, blood smoothly flowing through the skin and over her body to fall upon the gurney she lay, staining her already dirty hospital gown even more, which now possessed a long slit down the back.

Holding out his hand towards his assistants, who were busy standing around him waiting for orders, the scalpel outstretched towards them by the handle, he requested, "Forceps."

In a quick exchange of hands, the scalpel was taken away, discarded into a sink for it to be washed and sterilized, and was replaced by a two-prong instrument that extended 4 inches in length, plastic handles crossed on the ends. Crackhorn took the tool and fitted it inside the small incision on Lisa's back, clenching the handles together to close the prongs and slide it more easily through the incision without much trouble, releasing his pressure on the handles and causing the prongs to open up, both ends slowly forcing the skin and muscle around the incision apart enough to see the long column of vertebral discs trailing from the base of the neck to her behind. Leaving the forceps in place holding the sides of the incision apart, Crackhorn strolled over to the large metal cylinder that rested on one of the sinks by the door and gently lifted it in his arms, carrying it back to the gurney and holding it over the incision, placing one hand tentatively over the hatch on top as the parasite inside snapped its eye in the direction of Lisa's back, taking notice of the exposed spinal cord and growing excited at the prospect of finding a host, its tentacles flaying around its body wildly.

"Introducing the parasite to the test subject now," Crackhorn announced, his expression growing anxious and pensive.

At that announcement, everyone outside the room began to grow eager with anticipation at the prospect of finally obtaining new results that they could use to produce some suitable methods of resolving the Tyrant Project's delays yet they felt the apprehension rise inside them at the thought of something going disastrously and causing a terrible outcome for them all, the entire area in and out of the surgery room falling into a suspenseful and eerie silence. The guards standing watch outside the door immediately straightened their posture and took a few deep breaths to calm their adrenaline-heightened nerves, their ears barely catching the muffled words through the door, clutching the Spark Shots tighter in their hands and readying their senses for any sign of Lisa attempting an escape, some of them even flipping on the battery packs to charge up the electrical energy in the weapon and turn the small dial clockwise to increase the voltage level towards the red area, in hopes that such a high voltage and current level would incapacitate Lisa long enough to catch her if she tried to escape. The scientists outside the room began to lean forward from where they either sat by their desks or stood by the window, their eyes alight with excitement and scientific curiosity at what kind of results they would uncover, their entire attention focused on what would happen beyond the glass when Crackhorn released the parasite into Lisa, all of them ready to jot down notes on the ledgers they held or type in commands on their computers as the surgeons inside gathered around expectantly to observe the parasite's infusion with Lisa's body, looking both afraid yet interested in what the outcome could be; even Wesker found himself leaning closer towards the glass, his curiosity and anticipation at what they might find growing in him along with the other staff members around him, his mind briefly running through all the scenarios that he had planned out, the predictions that he made on what results they might find and all of the precautions he had taken to ensure the experiment ran as smoothly as possible, his expression still as collected as ever and his eyes still unreadable behind his sunglasses. Surprisingly enough, Birkin also began to lean towards the glass, his facial expression displaying a small sense interest at what was going to happen instead of the usual disdain and disapproval he had shown before at the experiment in general, occasionally taking a sip of his coffee.

And, with a full turn of the handle, Crackhorn pulled the lid open and held it towards Lisa's exposed spine, shaking it slightly to encourage the parasite to move as the water inside the tank slowly flowed out from the tank to land on Lisa's back, causing her to stir slightly in her sleep and emit a low moan from her lips; Crackhorn looked up at Lisa with wide frightful eyes, worried that Lisa would wake up before the experiment could even start, and began to tap the bottom of the tank in an effort to force the immobile parasite to leave its container-

-when in a sudden flash of movement, the parasite pressed its tentacles up against the glass window of the tank and pounced through the tank's open lid like a spring, landing with a soft wet thud onto Lisa's back, its eye swiveling around in its socket to focus on the exposed spine through the surgical incision, lifting itself up onto its tentacles for balance and using them as makeshift legs to dart across Lisa's back for the incision, scampering across it quickly and diving head first into the incision, a slight splash of blood jetting out of the wound from impact as the parasite dug its way into Lisa, a great large lump beneath the thin skin and muscle of her back, the ends of it tentacles still visible in the incision. Once inside, the parasite began to attach itself to the spine as it had done in the previous experiments, the large lump in the body gradually subsiding in the process and the visible parts of its tentacles slowly sank into the incision, followed by the sounds of squelching and sloshing as the parasite attached itself the spine, causing Lisa to moan slightly in her sleep and turn her masked-head towards the glass, the only sign of movement since the sedative injection. Afterwards, the parasite started the process in which it infected the brain by extending its tentacles along the cord towards the skull area, the long appendages clearly visible in their movement from the back up to the head like worms eating through surface of an apple, crawling under her skin and flowing up the blood vessels towards the brain.

"How are they doing?" Wesker asked, keeping his attention focused on Lisa.

"The parasite's vital signs are stable and healthy, well within normal parameters and there seems to be no sign of affection from the sedatives. The 'woman', however, is beginning to show signs of stress from the NE-Alpha's presence; her heart rate is increasing and her blood pressure is rising past normal levels, so she's probably about to wake up soon," one of the scientists replied, looking up from his computer for a split second before he went back to gazing at the screen, his fingers rapidly typing out commands on the keyboard as the transmitter and machinery inside the room continued to supply more data for him to sort through.

Wesker nodded and opened his mouth to say something else-

-when Lisa suddenly snapped awake and jerked upright on the gurney, arching her back far enough for him to see the tentacles that had grown up along the base of her neck into the back of her skull, letting out a long ghastly wail that echoed with unbearable pain and perpetual agony throughout the entire complex, that made everyone, even Wesker, cringe in pain and cover their ears at the sound as Lisa started to struggle more violently against her restraints, the gurney itself rattling in its place and threatening to collapse from the amount exerted on it. Yet before anyone could say a word or make any move to find out what was happening with the experiment, all of the equipment assigned to the experiment began to whine with a high-pitched rapid series of alarms, a large 'WARNING' sign in bold metallic-gray letters filled all of the screens and flashed periodically against a bright red background that continually faded away and slowly came back into focus, the lines of Lisa's vital signs rising and falling sporadically in an alarming rate.

Wesker spun around to look at the scientists behind him, all of whom were dashing towards to the computer stations to see what was happening and attempting to sort out the problem, their faces masked in an expression of anxiety as they hastily typed away on the keyboards. "Report!" he demanded.

Dr Sarton glanced up at Wesker briefly, then looked back down at the computer screen, giving some last orders to the scientist typing away on it and hurried over to Wesker. "Lisa's become fully aware of the parasite's presence and activities, and her body is attempting to reject the parasite! Her blood pressure is mounting exponentially, her heart rate has become erratic, her breathing rate is gradually decreasing and her brain wave activity has begun to grow sporadic! I think she may be dying!" he replied, chewing his bottom lip slightly in concern.

"How's the parasite!?" Birkin asked abruptly, looking up from the glass to gaze at Sarton sternly.

"Sir, the NE-Alpha is fine. Its vital signs are still functioning within normal levels and there seems to be no damage to it whatsoever, since it is still spreading along the spine to her skull without much hindrance and will probably start to induce its chemical into her brain cells to protect it from further damage," one of the scientists answered, tilting the screen slightly to show that the flat line was rising and falling steadily with a small beep at each time the line hit the top or bottom of the screen, the sound barely audible over the alarms of the other machinery, and making a small gesture towards Lisa, more specifically to the back of her neck where the tentacles had slid through the back of her neck into her skull to adapt with her brain.

Birkin made no response to that statement and instead pushed the button on the intercom box. "Crackhorn! Administer another dose of the sedative to her quickly! We need her to remain calm if we want the parasite to fully merge with her body without any risk to her!" he ordered sharply.

Crackhorn nodded to the glass and ordered all of the surgeons to hold down one Lisa's arms for him to inject the sedative whilst he picked the bottle filled with the sedative and the syringe he had used before from the surgical tray, stuck the syringe's needle through the cork in the bottle and withdrew some of the clear fluid into the syringe, stepping up to Lisa's side as the other surgeons fought to keep one of her arms pinned down for him to apply the sedative without missing the vein. As Crackhorn got closer and leaned down to administer the sedative, Lisa continued to struggle violently on the gurney and roar out in pain at the parasite still spreading inside her, the scientists, the table shaking and wobbling hard enough that it began to tilt from side to side dangerously, her restraints rattling loudly against the metal frame-

-when suddenly, the restraint around one of her wrists snapped open and she swung her fist out at Crackhorn, smacking him hard across the face and sending him crashing back into the surgical tray, the tools and bottles on top falling down onto the floor, some of the bottles smashing open and their contents forming small puddles on the floor. All of the other surgeons jumped back in fright from the gurney and let out small yelps of shock at the attack on Crackhorn, who was currently groaning from the pain to his head and slowly getting up off the mess by the tray, each of them now deathly afraid that Lisa would escape and try to kill them as another one of the straps gave way on her wrists, allowing her to move her hands freely, although she didn't even try to reach for the other straps that held down her legs and tear them off, instead bringing her hands up to her neck and ferociously picking at the flesh with her fingernails in an attempt to dig out the tentacles trailing through it-

-until the sound of a sickening crack echoed throughout the room over the alarms and Lisa let out one final shriek of pain before collapsing down onto the gurney with a loud slam, her body still and not moving, the alarms abruptly shutting off and the screens no longer flashed red or warning signs, the entire room falling silent again as everyone slowly gathered around Lisa, gazing at her intently for any signs of life or movement.

Wesker stared at her through the window for several seconds, watching her scrutinizingly for any signs of life from either her or the NE-Alpha, his expression as collected as ever yet, in the back of his mind, he was slightly concerned that the experiment may have ended in failure for them, since he would have to report the lack of results and the death of a key sample in Umbrella's BOW projects to Spencer, who would no doubt be greatly vexed at the situation that they had yielded nothing worthwhile, even after giving his support to get the Nemesis Parasite from Europe, and that they instead had killed it off in a failed experiment. And it certainly wouldn't be any good for Wesker at all because, not only was he supposed to be supervising and overseeing the experiment, he had been the one to suggest the use of the parasite in the first place when it had not even been included in the corporation's records at the time, which meant that Spencer would not only be angry at him for failing to produce any results like he had assured him, he would begin to grow more suspicious at his actions should he realize where he had found out about the Nemesis Project beforehand. After all, Wesker had already caught once and had been given a fair warning about any consequences should he be found snooping around again.

_But that won't be the case. In all of my predictions, whether or not the host lives, we should obtain some form of useful results from this experiment. Hopefully, though, the parasite is still alive long enough for us to rush into stasis, otherwise we are in for it badly._

"What's happened to Lisa and the parasite!?" he demanded harshly, still keeping his gaze on the woman for anything to suggest that both she and the parasite had survived, either a single twitch of the finger, a sliding motion of its tentacle beneath her skin or a simple moan from behind her rotting masks. Anything.

Dr Sarton, having walked away from Wesker and Birkin to look at the vital signs projected on the computers, bit his lip again slightly and wrung his hands together in front of him, his expression looking nervous and apprehensive as he stared at the computer screen and what was being displayed on it, his eyes mirrored in a mixture of disbelief and confusion, glancing up at Wesker when he gave his harsh command and switched off the monitor, giving the scientist a hushed order to leave it off for the moment, clearing his throat awkwardly to catch both his and Birkin's attention as he stepped closer to them, who were currently staring at Lisa through the window, oblivious to his now shattered cup and spilled coffee at his feet from when he dropped it earlier.

"Sir, I, well, the...it...she," he stammered, finding it difficult to get his mouth to say what he wanted to.

"Out with it!!" Birkin snapped, his gaze averted from the glass to Sarton, his expression looking very much irritated, Wesker himself turning to regard the man coolly, his face devoid of all emotion, giving him his professional aura.

Sarton stared back at Wesker and Birkin for what felt like hours, trying to sort through the confusion and disbelief that shone on his face from what he had seen on the computer, finding it difficult to look at Birkin's scowling complexion or Wesker's impassive expression as they patiently waited for him to answer their question. However, deciding that he had best show them anyway and let them figure it out, he sighed and gestured for them to follow him to one of the computers.

"As you are no doubt aware, we had planted a transmitter directly into the NE-Alpha parasite in order to record all of the mutational activities that would occur in it once it was implanted in Lisa, to monitor its vital signs so that we could ensure the experiment was safe for it and we had done the same to Lisa for the same reasons. Now, we had the machinery inside the room programmed to receive the transmitters signals and to send it through them to us here on these terminals," he explained, stepping up to one of the computers with Wesker and Birkin, ushering the scientist seated on it out of his seat and taking his place.

Birkin scoffed irritatedly. "Well, of course we know that. We are not blatantly ignorant in what goes on in this facility, unlike some others I could name," he stated insultingly.

Wesker merely gave Birkin a passing glance before looking back at Sarton coolly. "Yes, like Birkin has said, we did know about them. What is the point you are making?"

Sarton took in a deep breath to ready himself and turned the screen a little so they could see what was on screen, although currently the screen was pitch black. "Well, you see, throughout the whole experiment, the transmitters have been recording all of the data in regards to the implantation of the Nemesis with Lisa, and monitoring both the woman's and parasite's vital signs for us to use in our own research in later tests. In addition, we have been receiving the data from the transmitters at our own computer terminals very clearly and have been recording all of the data onto a hard file to store it safely and access it whenever we needed to at a later time. So, when Lisa had had that panic attack of hers during the implantation process, the transmitters and the computer terminals had been monitoring both of their vital signs for us to look at in order to determine what was causing this," he explained.

Wesker nodded slowly in understanding. "And you have already analyzed the data and vital signs on both of them to determine the cause," he stated stoically.

Sarton nodded. "Yes, we did. But..."

"But?" Birkin pressed, his tone sounding impatient.

"We had found something rather...unusual in the data. Something I think you should see," he answered before he turned back to the screen switched on the monitor's power and began typing out on the keyboard, spending a few moments typing out commands on the keys and browsing through the large amount of files that littered the computer's hard-drive until he came to a small folder marked 'Experimental Data', clicking on it twice with the mouse pointer and opening it up to reveal two additional programs, one labeled 'Specimen records' and the other 'Sample data'.

Sarton clicked the 'Specimen records' program twice and the screen lit up with four luminous green lines that extended from side of the screen to the other, each of them lining up from top to bottom in order of blood pressure, heart rate, brain waves and respiratory rate, obviously the lines that signified Lisa's vital activities in her bodily systems and how they were faring in the experiment. From what Wesker could see from the lines playing out on the screen, Lisa had been rendered unconscious by the parasite's implantation and her vital signs had been affected greatly by the process of it invading her brain, since her heart rate was responding with tiny bumps and dips along the line at long intervals between them and her brain wave activity was reduced a simple jolt along the line once every few seconds, whilst her respiratory rate and blood pressure were rising and falling in small hills and ditches along the lines, meaning that she was well enough alive but had been drastically weakened by the experiment.

This gave Wesker a small sense of relief because, if Lisa was still alive, that meant that the parasite was probably alive inside her body and was still attempting to merge with her brain in order to protect her mind from further degradation like it had been created to do so. However, that didn't help to ease much of his concern since, out of all the predictions that he had made on how the experiment would turn out, whether or not Lisa lived was of no consequence to anyone as she had no further value or use for the corporation in any regards to their work and must have been more happy to die herself after everything she had lived through. What really mattered was the status of the NE-Alpha implanted into her body and how well it had merged with her, since the parasite was the more important organism involved and was the main focus of the experiment, and what had happened to the parasite in the experiment would be the topic that Spencer and the corporation wished to know about after everything that had been done to start the experiment.

"What about the parasite?" he asked, looking up at Sarton.

Sarton, instead of answering, simply closed the program and opened up the next labeled 'Sample Data', the screen turning pitch black again, nothing at all displayed on the monitor or stored in the file-

_What the...?_

-except for the small words 'No sample detected' written in simple bright green letters in the center of the screen.

Wesker stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds before he looked up at Sarton, his confusion registered on his face. "What does this mean?"

Sarton merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, sir. The transmitter is functioning properly and the data link is responding well enough without any trouble. It just...doesn't seem to detect the Nemesis parasite inside Lisa anymore," he answered vaguely.

Wesker's eyes narrowed sharply behind his sunglasses and Birkin simply stared at the screen, obviously trying to discern what the words meant. "You mean it's dead?" Birkin questioned.

Sarton shook his head. "No. If it was dead, we'd still be receiving the data and the vital signs on the parasite from the transmitter stating that it is dead, as it has been programmed to record all of the physiological data on the parasite," he answered curtly.

Wesker rubbed his chin in thought and stood up straight, his eyes glancing between Sarton and the screen. "Then the transmitter must be damaged," he stated.

Sarton shook his head again. "No, that's impossible. These transmitters are designed to keep functioning until someone turns them off remotely or removes them from the host altogether. This transmitter is still functioning and monitoring the parasite inside Lisa's body, but it can't seem to find it for some reason."

Wesker arched an eyebrow at Sarton in curiosity. "Can't find it?" he asked.

"These transmitters are designed to actively analyze, record and transmit all data on their assigned specimens' DNA structures during experiments in order for us to monitor their vital signs and to uncover any mutations that occur in their bodies. This is because, before we began this experiment, we had taken a sample of the parasite's DNA, analyzed its genetic structure, stored it in the computer system and uploaded the DNA analysis into the transmitter's programming, so that it could monitor all activity in the parasite at a genetic level. But from what this data stream is claiming, the transmitter is unable to find the parasite at all in the host, even though we injected it directly into the parasite itself," Sarton explained.

Wesker remained silent, thinking things over calmly about what had been said, and was about to add another opinion on the matter, when Birkin suddenly snapped his fingers together and looked up sharply at Sarton, his face alight with scientific success and eagerness. "You said that these transmitters will monitor a host during an experiment if we supply them with a 'specific' genetic code to the specimen's DNA, right?" he asked.

Sarton nodded slowly. "Yes, that's true," he answered plainly, failing to understand where Birkin's question was headed.

Birkin scratched the back of his head and turned away from the desk, walked towards the glass window and stared out into the surgery room where Crackhorn was supervising his team to keep Lisa sedated, deep in thought about an idea that he had come up with.

"What if...it isn't the transmitter that is the source of the problem, but the parasite itself?" he muttered to himself in a hushed tone that Wesker found difficult to hear. He then quickly spun around and looked at Wesker with his eyes alight in sudden realization, his expression masked into something of astonishment. "What if something has happened to the parasite inside Lisa's body that the transmitter can no longer be able to read it or that it no longer matches the transmitter's DNA sample in its program?" he exclaimed.

Wesker arched an eyebrow at Birkin in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Birkin glanced at the other scientists around them, who were watching them from where they sat or stood, waiting to hear what he had to say, and his lips formed an frustrated frown as he stared at each of them, looking very much annoyed by their presence, before he looked up at Wesker, making a slight gesture with his head for them both to leave the area and taking off at a brisk walk around the corner. Wesker stared at Birkin as he walked around the corner, pondering what Birkin was up to, and followed him after he gave Sarton his orders to store all of the experimental data onto a hard disk for later use, walking around the corner and down the hallway of Level B3, past the several guards who stood watch at the surgery room doors, stepping around another corner near to the large ventilation fan that resided in the wall, the low thrum of the machine echoing slightly in the cavernous hallways, and walking up to Birkin who stood silently in the corner next to one of the shelving units sitting by it.

"What is it you wanted to say, William?" Wesker asked, straightening his sunglasses as he approached.

Birkin glanced down both hallways before he looked up at Wesker. "Sorry. I didn't want the other scientists to hear us talking," he explained.

Wesker simply folded his arms across his chest and waited patiently for Birkin to continue.

"Well, I think I may have uncovered what has happened to the parasite in Lisa and why Sarton is having trouble locating it," he claimed with a triumphant grin.

Wesker raised an eyebrow at his claim. "Then why this discretion? We can talk freely about our work in front of the other staff," he stated.

Birkin shook his head. "Not about this, Wesker. Do you remember what we read in Marcus' notes? When we had to analyze and read through all of his research to uncover what it was he had discovered after his...that day?" he asked grimly, his uneasiness about the topic showing on his face.

Wesker nodded slowly. "Yes, I did. He had written all of his notes about the theory he had on enhancing the Progenitor in hosts by breeding them through several generations so that it could adapt to their DNA. He had used leeches as the Progenitor hosts for his experiment and had successfully reproduced them over several generations in his lab, until he had formed the T-Virus from their DNA when it had completely combined and mutated with the Progenitor," he answered, vividly recalling that time when he had watched his mentor die, when he had mocked him on his dying breaths and when he had taken full control over his research with Birkin, including all of the information and samples on the T-Virus that he had to read through on his promotion to Head Researcher.

Birkin pointed his finger sharply at Wesker, his entire expression seeming to glow bright with eager anticipation and excitement, the same expression he had worn on his face years ago when they started working on the Progenitor, at something that only he knew of. "Exactly right. Now, what if the same principle and method that Marcus had used to create the T-Virus has happened again, except this time in Lisa?"

Wesker narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion behind his sunglasses. "What do you mean?"

Birkin scratched the back of his head and looked away from Wesker momentarily, thinking over how he should explain what he had found out to Wesker and how Marcus' own research applied to it, then he looked back up at him with an expression of firm resolution and cleared his throat. "If you remember when we had first met her, Spencer had told us that she had been infected with ever possible strain of the Progenitor that Umbrella had created as she was the main test subject for these laboratories. And ever since we started work on the T-Virus, I had administered the T-Virus to her as part of my own experiments to see how her DNA would react to it. However, all the viruses did was flow within her blood system with very little effects caused upon her body and she continued to survive through her own immunity to them, and we still couldn't figure out what this immunity she possessed was or how she had survived through all these years of experimentation, so we had deemed her a failure and had her sealed away within the prisons out of sight whilst we focused on more productive means," he explained.

Wesker simply straightened his sunglasses and turned away from Birkin, walking towards one of the shelves to examine the many bottles and vials of medicines sitting on top. "I remember. That was the time when Alexia Ashford had joined Umbrella and all of the corporation began praising her instead of you," he remarked stoically.

Birkin flashed a brief sneer in Wesker's direction at the mention of his rival's name and when she had stolen all of his appraisal from him, but it was soon replaced by a triumphant smirk. "Yes, that's correct. Now, my theory on the matter is this; if Marcus had created the T-Virus through reproducing his Progenitor-infected leeches over several generations until their DNA and the Progenitor itself had merged together, mutating into a stronger, more potent strain, then maybe a similar activity has occurred in Lisa," he stated ecstatically.

Wesker snapped his head around to gaze at Birkin sharply, watching as some form of joy and awe had appeared on his face, his smirk growing wider and his eyes brimming over with astonishment. "Are you saying that the viruses we had put into Lisa for all those years have...changed?" he questioned.

Birkin nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's what I meant! When we had Lisa sealed away in her cell and began to focus on other endeavors, such as the Hunters and Tyrants, the viruses that were flowing inside her body didn't simply die out as I had expected for them to do, due to the fact that if more than one viral or bacterial infection exists in a single organism, they end up competing with each other for space and consuming one another to determine which single infection will thrive in the host. But instead, as all of these viruses are simply variations of one another and both of them possess minute genetic similarities, as the T-Virus was created from the Progenitor, they were able to merge together over time successfully and mutate into a more powerful viral strain than the T-Virus itself, to grow and reproduce inside Lisa's body over the years we had ignored her until a single viral mutagen existed inside her, one that neither was Progenitor nor T-Virus. And this new viral strain must have been what has affected the Nemesis inside her from this experiment; you see, when we introduced the NE-Alpha into Lisa, nothing had happened that we didn't know about since we had analyzed all of it's research data and knew how it would merge with its host, so we assumed everything was going well with the parasite's growth in Lisa. But, when the parasite invaded her brain, this new viral strain discovered it's presence..." he explained, trailing off and looking at Wesker expectantly, waiting for him to figure it out and explain the rest for him.

Wesker waited for Birkin to finish the explanation, growing impatient that Birkin wouldn't explain himself and was now playing games with him, opening his mouth to say something to him-

-but no words exited his lips and his mouth instead hung open in shock, his eyes growing wide with surprise and disbelief as something clicked in his mind, something he had never thought of, something he had never once expected or even considered possible in the experiment.

"And since it isn't either the Progenitor or T-Virus like you said, having mutated into an altogether different strain, it failed to combine with the parasite and instead, due to the fact that it was more powerful and potent than the T-Virus variant in the Nemesis' genes,...consumed it to protect its presence in Lisa," he finished for Birkin, his voice having grown quiet in an awe that was similar to the one playing on Birkin's face.

Birkin clapped his hands together and nodded his head, his smirk now reaching to the far corner of his cheeks, threatening to split his face in two. "Exactly! The new viral strain perceived the parasite as an entirely different entity and decided to fight its invasion of Lisa's brain in order to preserve its existence inside her body, so it could continue thriving inside her. Thus, when Lisa fell unconscious, the parasite lost the fight with the new strain and was consumed by Lisa's body, allowing the new strain to invade the parasite itself and mutate its DNA to match its own for it to merge with Lisa's body successfully, which caused the transmitter to lose track of it due to the fact that it was programmed to the NE-Alpha's DNA sequence, not the new strain," he proclaimed, his voice sounding incredibly enthusiastic at his new find.

No words were exchanged after that, the conversation between Wesker and Birkin having trailed off and fell into silence as each of them thought over everything that had been said, about the possibilities and ideas that had been presented, and whether or not they were plausible enough to be considered useful. After giving it some considerable thought, Wesker had to admit that he was impressed with Birkin's reasoning and deduction on the matter, since he literally had no idea or explanation whatsoever on how to describe what had happened to Lisa and the parasite in their experiment, due to the fact that not once, out of all of the expectations he held and the predictions that he had made on the outcome of their experiment, did he ever expect Lisa to actually be able to fully consume the Nemesis parasite and still be alive afterwards. In fact, no one had ever expected something like that to occur because all the research data on the Nemesis portrayed that there would be a rather large chance that the host itself would die once the parasite entered its brain and began to grow from the extreme bodily mutations it gained from the host, or that there was the slim chance the parasite would be able to merge successfully with the host's body, fully adapt with its brain and manipulate its intelligence to satisfactory levels for it to understand orders, and to produce a fully-capable, highly efficient combat BOW. Thus, Wesker had made all the most possible and probable predictions on how the experiment would turn out, planned out how they would handle each of the outcomes and what results he had expected to gain from them, namely that he would have all of the research data logged away and stored for later use, such as organizing a report for Spencer and the board at their next meeting, have the parasite sent to stasis to keep it alive longer and dispose of Lisa's body should she die from the experiment.

Yet, by some miraculous effect, Lisa had not only survived the implantation of the parasite into her body, but instead of merging with it successfully and changing into a suitable BOW for the corporation, she had completely consumed the NE-Alpha parasite growing inside her and changed it's entire DNA sequences to match her own. And, despite the fact that everyone there, including Wesker (who had worked on all aspects of the Progenitor and T-Virus research, ever since Marcus had introduced them to it back when they were still students at the Training Facility and when Spencer had given them full authority over all of Marcus' work after his 'retirement', and had worked with Lisa throughout the past few years in the Arklay labs), had utterly no idea or explanation about what had happened in the experiment, only Birkin was the one to have actually that something had not only changed inside the woman's body, but he had managed to fully uncover what exactly had changed and thoroughly explain his entire theory on the matter using a reference to a piece of their old mentor's research that had not been touched or read again for ages ever since he and Wesker had came to the Arklay facility. That all of the viruses inside her had grown, combined and mutated together to form an even more advanced strain of the viruses that they had failed to notice, that had been reproducing and spreading throughout her unhindered, and that it had been powerful enough to consume the Nemesis when it had noticed its presence.

_But could he be right? Could what he is suggesting be the actual results that we had been searching for?_

Originally, Wesker had predicted that the outcome of the experiment would provide them with something that could be used as a resolution to the Tyrant Project, mainly in regards to the lack of suitable hosts for the project or the fact that they couldn't seem to preserve enough of a host's intelligence for it to become a suitable Tyrant, yet they had now discovered a newer, stronger, more potent strain, that was entirely different from the T-Virus and Progenitor, for them to work with. And, if what Birkin had theorized and proclaimed was true, the prospects of working on such a new viral strain would open up even more possibilities, reveal new roads, provide even more profitable results for them to use in their BOW research, and even Spencer, despite his rather harsh and scrupulous demands, would have to agree that this new viral strain could be a very profitable venture, since they were still at a loss with the problems concerning the Tyrant series.

Although, Wesker could see that there was still a rather large overall problem with working on this new strain, along with every other activity that Umbrella was embedding itself in, in that it would cost an larger amount of money, manpower and resources to work on this new viral strain when they were already encompassed with all of the other research and development projects they were dealing with in the T-Virus experiments. But, otherwise, he saw no other problems that could be a hindrance or drawback on working on such a project and he decided that they should report their findings to Spencer as soon as possible for him to evaluate it himself.

Wesker straightened his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and regarded Birkin calmly, placing his hands inside his lab coat pockets. "Well, we best be getting back now and start clearing up the experiment, since it has reached its end," he stated stoically, turning back towards the surgery room and walking down the corridor.

But, before Wesker reached the corner that led around to the reinforced doors of the surgery room, where the half a dozen guards were stationed outside, Birkin hurried towards him and grasped his shoulder firmly, causing Wesker to look over his shoulder at Birkin, who regarded with a stern expression. "Just remember, don't mention anything about how we uncovered this theory of ours. Ever since Spencer assigned us here, I was labeled the official creator of the T-Virus and all of the staff here see me as such, since only me, you and Spencer know the truth about the T-Virus and its creator. If it is revealed that was the original creator, they will start to ask questions about the incident and Spencer will have our heads if they so much as discover a hint about what happened," he advised him grimly.

Wesker nodded his head sharply at that and shook of Birkin's grip, taking off at a brisk walk down the corridor, ignoring the crisp salutes from the guards as he passed. Although it had never been mentioned openly and Spencer had not commanded them in person to do so, both Wesker and Birkin were fully aware that they were never to talk about James Marcus and his part in the T-Virus research with anyone else, under no circumstances. No excuses. No exceptions. Since, to the rest of the corporation, James Marcus had sadly died of heart failure or a stroke or something similar along that line due to the amount of stress and strain it had on his aging physique, Spencer had wanted to keep a tight lid on the whole affair and have it brushed under the rug, never to be spoken of or brought up ever again, and that Wesker and Birkin would ensure that no trace about the truth was leaked to the other employees in Umbrella's payroll because there would be dire ramifications if it did and not just for the two scientists.

As everyone in the entire globe was fully aware of, James Marcus had been one of the founding members of the corporation, along with Spencer and Edward Ashford, back in 1968, and had held one of the main positions of power inside Umbrella's hierarchy, in that he shared total control over the corporation, its employees and its assets, and governed the administrative, financial and R&D activities, but had enthralled himself in working on the Progenitor until he had gone mad and had to be relieved of his position. But, as all knowledge of Marcus and his actions were kept confidential in Spencer's investigation of the Training Facility and the Treatment Plant, if the employees under his control found out what happened to Marcus, they would begin to assume that he had murdered Marcus to seize total control over the corporation and was not trustworthy enough to leave him in as Umbrella's chairman, since they would state that he was abusive of his power and unfit to lead the entire corporation in general, thus there would be unrest and instability amongst the corporation, which could spark into either a breakdown or massive shutdown of the corporation's activities, maybe even enough to plan a hostile takeover on him and the board. But it wouldn't end with him, since Wesker and Birkin had been the hitmen to carry out the deed, they would be held accountable and deemed as conspirators with Spencer, meaning that their careers would come to a rather abrupt halt. In fact, to Wesker, Umbrella was just one big cruiser sailing across the sea, pristine and proud for itself and what it did, along with the people who roamed it, but Marcus was a large anchor that had been chained to Wesker, Birkin and Spencer, teetering dangerously over the sea, ready to be pushed off and drag them down into the depths at a moments notice.

_Ironic really. Even in death, Marcus is still something of a great concern to Spencer._

Turning the corner at the end of the hall, he noticed that all of the scientists were all still enthralled in what they were doing, mainly gazing warily through the glass window at the sleeping form of Lisa, still lying on the gurney snoring deeply, but he ignored them and walked towards Sarton, who was still seated by the desk, typing away at the computer.

"Is all the data stored?" he asked.

Sarton tapped the last few keys and looked up at Wesker. "Yes sir. All the data is back up and stored, from the beginning of the experiment to the moment when the parasite invaded Lisa's brain," he answered.

Wesker nodded. "Good. Now, I want all of the data either printed or copied onto smaller floppy-disks and sent to my office immediately. I will need to sort through all of the data and write up a report for Spencer to see at the next meeting. In the meantime, I would like for all brainwave, respiratory, blood pressure, heart rate and DNA tests to be performed on Lisa in regards to what has happened today, and I want the results sent to me or Birkin as soon as possible," he ordered sternly.

Sarton arched an eyebrow at Wesker, his face lighting up with curiosity. "May I ask why, Dr Wesker?"

"There's no need for you to be worried about this, Sarton," Birkin quickly replied, making up something on the spot to placate the man's curiosity, "We just want to perform a thorough examination of Lisa in order to determine what exactly has happened inside her when the parasite was introduced to her, so that we can send a detailed report to Spencer."

"And we want you to discard all of the previous data; everything we have on Lisa from the first day she had arrived to these laboratories and all of the experiments that had been performed on her, we want all of it erased," Wesker added sternly.

Sarton actually reeled back at that order, his eyes wide in shock, his mouth hanging open and a hand clutched tightly on his shirt as he regarded Wesker's cool expression with a look that seemed to beg for Wesker to change his mind about all of the data on Lisa, to which Wesker understood since Sarton had been working in Arklay before he and Birkin had even arrived, and he was one of the few charge to collect all of the data on Lisa in the first place from the very start.

"With respect, sir, I fail to see how erasing all of the previous data will help in any way. We have already thoroughly examined Lisa in every possible way and have performed every known test on her in regards to the various experiments we had performed on her all the time she was here. Surely, this amount of data is certainly enough to-" he began to explain, trying to conjure up some form of an argument to persuade Wesker and Birkin to change their minds.

Wesker, however, had little patience for Sarton's rambling and shut him up with a dismissive wave of his hand. "No, that won't be helpful. All of the data we have on Lisa from the past will be useless for us since everything has now changed, what with the Nemesis now inside her. We need to ascertain what exactly has happened to Lisa and the Nemesis itself in this experiment to write up a fully-detailed for Spencer to look through, and simply using all of the data we have now won't do us any good since he has already read through it countless times and knows about each of the experiments we had performed on the young woman. We need to start from scratch and begin research on her again from the beginning if we want to uncover what has really happened with the Nemesis and Lisa; Spencer and the board will naturally want to know the same things as well, and they expect nothing less than full disclosure on the subject.

Sarton was temporarily silent after that, the look on his face showing that, even though Wesker was right, he was still scouring through the entire argument looking for a loophole to exploit so that all of his hard work wouldn't go to waste, as like all of the scientists were, he had grown very attached to all of his accomplishments, including his work on Lisa. But he soon let out an defeated sigh and cast his eyes down to the floor, realizing that there was no way for him to win.

"Very well, Dr Wesker. I will have all of the previous data and start performing our research Lisa again from scratch. If anything new pops up in the results, I shall have them sent to your office," he said glumly.

Wesker nodded curtly and strolled over to the large glass window that looked into the surgery room, leaning forward towards the microphone and pressing the 'INTERCOM' button. "Crackhorn. Get the door open and have the guards take Lisa back to her cell. As for you and your team, get everything cleaned up in there, record all of the data on the machine and get yourselves over to the decontamination showers immediately. We can't risk spreading an infection if the virus has escaped," he ordered sharply.

Crackhorn nodded and gestured for one of the surgeons to open the doors before turning back to Lisa, glancing over scrutinizingly one last time to make sure she was asleep and began undoing the straps one by one, each of the restraints giving off a sharp snap as they opened up. The surgeon stationed by the door hurried over to the keypad beside it and inputted the code for the door, each of the keys lighting up and beeping as his fingers pressed down on them, the lock snapping open with a whir and a click, the doors slamming open as the guards rushed inside and dashed over to Lisa, hefting her slump form comfortably between them and dragging her out the door whilst Wesker watched from behind the glass window, watched as the surgeons hastily ran about the room cleaning up the mess that had been made in the experiment and as the guards carried Lisa back towards her cell, where she would remain for the next few years.

_It seems that we have finally managed to obtain something useful from her after all these years of failure and delays. But, I imagine that whoever she is must still be begging for this all to end, though sadly, that won't be happening for some time now._

Suddenly, a single thought popped into Wesker's mind, one that peaked his curiosity and brought up even more questions in his ever growing suspicions towards Spencer, one that he, and probably everyone else in the entire Arklay laboratories, had never once considered or even paid any attention during his career as the Head Researcher. He had absolutely no idea or clue as to who the young woman specimen, Lisa, really was.

When Wesker had first seen Lisa, back one on that day they arrived to the Arklay laboratories with Spencer and Birkin after their promotions to Head Researchers, he didn't so much as consider what her real identity was, his mind mainly focused on the scientific interest he had in her unique condition on the fact that she had survived all Progenitor strains that were injected into her body, and the sheer terror and disgust he felt after seeing her face, or the many faces she wore, and those dark, insane, hateful eyes that glared at him before she roared out at them in rage whilst Spencer just stood there smiling fiendishly at his 'princess', as he called her. And in the few years afterwards, all of Wesker's attention had been fixed upon his research on the T-Virus that Marcus had created and on his curiosity to solve the mystery of how Lisa had been granted this immortality that had made her so infamous with the Arklay staff, the concept of figuring out her real identity and who she really was forced further down on his list of priorities, since all she had been back then was the main test subject to use in their T-Virus experiments.

However, after failing to uncover anything that provided a small answer to his questions on Lisa's condition, he shifted all of his efforts onto Spencer's persistent demands of perfecting the T-Virus' kill-rate and to get the Arklay facilities back to working at an efficient pace, since Birkin's jealously at Alexia Ashford's appearance and employment had began to severely cripple their research and drag the entire lab into disarray, thus he had Lisa sealed away in her cells and stay there for the time being, only to be used by Birkin in his rash and hasty experiments as the main test subject whilst all other specimens died from his hectic work-pace.

Then, in the following days after the death of Alexia Ashford and the slow process of getting the labs back to speed on their work, although Wesker had been the only one to pay any heed towards the young Lisa due to her denunciation as a failure and the fact that she had been left to rot away in her cell, completely forgotten by all the other staff, he had been more focused on his growing suspicions towards Spencer actions and motives in regards to their work, such as the positioning of some of his facilities, the constant financial support on a rather expensive business and his consistent demands that the virus be perfected before he started mass-production, and his continuing research on the new series of BOWs they planned to create and the current ones already in stasis. In addition, when Birkin and his assistant/wife Annette had managed to uncover the reasons behind the T-Virus' inability to kill 100 population and formed the foundations of what was to become the Tyrant Project, Wesker's attention was further divided amongst the many aspects of his work because, as per his usual demeanor, Spencer ordered that ALL of the facilities scientific endeavors and attention were to be devoted in resolving the flaws on the Tyrant BOW series, thus solving the identity of the young woman was further overshadowed and forsaken.

But now, watching as she was dragged away by the guards back to the cell which was her current home, he couldn't help but wonder about who she really was, or more technically who she had been before she had become Umbrella's main test subject and Spencer's 'princess'. Wesker knew that she had to have been imprisoned in Arklay for a long time, since she had been here before Wesker and Birkin had even joined Umbrella, let alone worked at Arklay, and Spencer himself had verified that point when he had first shown them to her, as well as that she was the main host for the entire Progenitor project and had a special value.

Originally, Wesker had believed that her special value was down to her unique ability to survive all injections and experimentations given to her by the corporation over the many years she was used as a specimen when all the others died and came back as the traditional 'zombie' BOW, yet now he was beginning to think that maybe her value to Umbrella stemmed further than just her potential as a BOW, virus host or test subject. Over his career as Head Researcher, Wesker had come to memorize all of the many protocols and regulations that Umbrella's higher-ups had put into effect in regards to how all of their business aspects, both legal and illegal, should be followed; for example, if ever a specimen should fail to produce any form of results, they were to be killed off and sent over to the Treatment Plant for proper disposal in regards to preventing a possible outbreak or infection. In fact, during one of his visits to Arklay, Wesker had once voiced out an opinion towards Spencer about Lisa's lack of results and how much of a waste she had become to their work, stating that she should be disposed of at the Treatment Plant as soon as possible; however, Spencer had, rather vaguely, dismissed the idea and told him that they needn't worry about having her sent to the Treatment Pant for disposal, that the viruses inside her body would eventually die out and she along with them, so he ordered that she be kept inside her cell until she and the viruses inside her died out, and since Wesker had already too much on his plate that needed his attention, he simply went with Spencer's orders and forgot about the whole thing.

Although, now that he thought about it and recalled up the conversation he had with Spencer on the matter, he felt that maybe Spencer had wanted her alive for another reason altogether, for something other than using her for their work on the T-Virus. And the more he thought about it, the more the train of thought appealed to him because, as he had noted several times beforehand, Spencer was a man who always had an ulterior motive in what ever he did, such as the numerous accounts of his peculiar and sheer ignorant actions in the T-Virus Project and BOW development, so it didn't really seem that strange that he possessed another reason to keep Lisa alive and locked up. Out of all the thoughts that popped into his mind on the subject, the only logical and most likely one that Wesker could come up with was if he had taken the girl Lisa from somewhere or someone of high status or recognition in the world that he couldn't allow any evidence that she was still alive to be revealed to the public, indicating that he had wanted her to be kept locked away in the laboratories until she died; if this was true, then there was the chance that some people around Arklay may actually have a clear idea of who she was, since Sarton, Crackhorn and most of the research staff had been working in the labs long before Wesker and Birkin had arrived.

_Perhaps, if I have some time, I could try and uncover any information about in the corporation's computer systems._

However, Wesker noted sternly, he would have to be a lot more cautious in his investigations since Spencer had already caught him snooping around once and gave him a strict warning of the consequences should he be caught again, although he never put it into words but his piercing blue eyes that locked with his own, peering deep into Wesker's expression to discern his own motives behind his investigation providing enough of a warning for him to understand. And there was no doubt in his mind that Spencer's suspicions would be even more aroused once he uncovered how Wesker had obtained on the Nemesis Project beforehand when it had yet to be disclosed to the higher-ups on the board, let alone the other research staff.

_It appears that this game between Spencer and myself will continue on for some time now._

Wesker continued to watch Crackhorn and his team of surgeons clear up everything in the surgery room, packing away the tools and chemicals into the cabinets or drawers in the desks, turn off the machinery and shut down all of its programming, wipe away all of the blood and chemical spillage off the floor, and apply a large amount of disinfectant around the room before they left the room for the decontamination showers, the doors slamming shut behind them. Turning away from the glass, Wesker walked past Sarton and all of the other scientists, as they busied themselves in clearing away all of the desks and computers stationed around the window, some of them still typing away on their keyboards whilst they copied and saved all of the data onto disks or paper, and stepped up to Birkin's side, catching his attention away from his supervising the storage of all the experimental data.

"I'll be heading up to my office now. I had better contact Spencer and tell him about this," he informed Birkin, his expression calm and collected.

Birkin nodded. "I'll have Sarton bring the data up to your office once we have it all stored and printed out."

Wesker simply stared back at him. "And what will you be doing?"

"I'll take the files back home with me and work on them there in my own facilities; I only all of the computer and documents on the results on all of the research on Lisa, including those of the new tests that we will be performing on her," he answered sternly. However, Birkin chuckled slightly afterwards and wore an amused grin on his face. "Besides, Annette needs me to help her look after Sherry back at our house in the city, so I might as well lend my assistance," he stated dryly.

Wesker stayed silent for a few seconds, watching the other scientists busy themselves with putting away all of the computers and data safely in storage, before he nodded in response to Birkin's statement (ignoring the humor behind it), already fully aware that he had turned one of the rooms in his home into a mini-laboratory where he could perform preliminary work and tests on any aspect of his work when he had to stay home with his family, leaving all the main experiments on the T-Virus back in the laboratories for him to work on when he returned. After that, he turned away from the area around the surgery room and walked around the corner, heading towards his office back at the mansion, his mind focused on how he should explain everything that has happened to Spencer, what they have been able to find, what had happened to both Lisa and the parasite, what this new strain and how it was created, and how they would proceed from here on with this new discovery.

Since, even with Spencer's strict demands and harsh enforcements to obtain perfection in all of their results, they all had to admit that what they had just found today was a new turning in the path, a entirely new endeavor for them to create a completely different BOW, a large deviation in their T-Virus research and would be able to provide them with even greater results in the future.

Although, whether the results would be beneficial or crippling towards the corporation and all of their research, not even Wesker could predict that...

"William! Are you in there!?" a muffled female voice called out, followed by a series of loud thumps on a wooden surface.

William Birkin merely groaned in response and rolled his head along his arms, trying to make himself more comfortable and fall back into the peaceful sleep he was just having, but the voice persisted further, calling out his name more loudly and continued to thump on the door, so he decided that he had better wake up and see what it wanted. He slowly rose himself up from his desk and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes slightly to rid himself of the morning dew, the low light from the computer stinging his retinas as he glanced around the small room he was in, his vision attempting to adjust itself to the dark confines of his study.

It wasn't really much in terms of a study, simply an empty room that only contained two large filing cabinets at one end beneath a small window that looked out onto one of the main streets in Raccoon City, the curtains currently drawn against the bright summer sunshine outside, an ordinary wooden desk with a wooden chair in front of it covered in various pieces of paper, some having falling slowly to the floor as he got up from his makeshift pillow, and a small computer monitor on top, and a simple light stand placed in the corner farthest from the door, turned off at the moment, but it served to meet the necessary requirements Birkin had wanted for the small amount of work he did at home.

When Birkin had made his matrimonial proposal to Annette two years ago and she had told him about her pregnancy with Sherry, both of them had agreed to purchase a house somewhere in Raccoon City where they could raise their child properly and far away from their delicate biological-research, as demanded by their new-found parental obligations to Sherry, so Birkin had informed Spencer and Wesker about their wedding plans, their honeymoon and the fact that Annette was several months pregnant with a child, hence why he requested permission to have a home in Raccoon City, despite how very much afraid he was of how Spencer would react to his requests. However (surprisingly enough) Spencer had agreed to his requests and paid for everything they needed in their new family life at home out of his deep pockets, funding the entire wedding celebrations, the honeymoon and paying all of the bills to own their new home in the Raccoon Cider District, a simple two-story, bright white house near the outskirts of the city; in return for which, Spencer had told him that he was to continue his work as usual, with a newly adjusted schedule to suit his family life, back at Arklay to help resolve the issues around the Tyrant BOW series. Naturally, Birkin was happy to accept because, although he loved his family very deeply and was more than willing to sacrifice some time for them, science and his work with Umbrella was still his greatest passion in life, and he still felt the same fixed determination to continue onwards with his research. In addition, with his house located on the edge of the city, Birkin found it easier to get to the laboratories without much trouble from his house by taking one of the old hiking roads with his new car (another generous gift from Spencer).

However, when he and his family had moved into the home, Birkin had decided to convert the spare bedroom upstairs into a portable study where he could perform any work that required his attention whilst at home; Annette, understanding his motives due to the shared interests and fascinations towards science they possessed, agreed to it if he pulled his own weight around the home raising Sherry, stating that their daughter needed her father as much as anything else.

Standing to his feet, Birkin gave his entire body a light stretch, relieving his stiff joints and bones from his sleep, gave out a long deep yawn and walked over to the door, opening it a crack to see Annette standing outside waiting for him.

"Annette? What time is it?" he asked drearily.

Annette took a brief glance at her watch. "Quarter to seven. I was just calling for you to come to dinner, but you wouldn't answer me, so I came up to get you."

Birkin gave a small embarrassed smile in response. "Sorry. I was working up late last night and I guess I fell asleep whilst working up here again."

"Are you okay, William? You look very exhausted," she questioned, her face etched with concern, taking note of the small bags under his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just need some sleep," he responded quickly, rubbing his eyes slightly.

Annette stared at him momentarily, waiting for a further response, but she ignored the question and made a small gesture towards the kitchen downstairs. "Well, dinner's ready for you. You better come down before it gets cold," she stated.

"Okay. But, I have to take care of something first. Is that alright?" he asked, inclining his head towards his desk.

Annette nodded and went back downstairs, Birkin closing the door behind her and walking over to his desk as he heard Annette's footsteps thump downstairs, picking up all of the pieces of paper scattered on the floor, placing them back on the table as neatly as possible and sitting himself back down in his chair, gazing at the program playing out on the computer screen. The program was a series of digitized blood test results that had been performed on Lisa after the experiment with the Nemesis parasite on her, each of the tiny individual boxes on screen showing the many different DNA strands taken from the woman and tested by the Arklay research staff, the small double-helix structures rotating slightly in place as several series of equations rolled out in the area beside them, and the papers scattered on his desk were all the new research data that had been made on Lisa's union with the NE-Alpha, including the other numerous tests that had been made on her prior to the previous data having been erased.

_I know there is something in here that proves my theory on what happened with her and Nemesis. Something is in here that can account for all of the experiments we had used her with. I just know it!_

Though, he still actually felt a small sense of amazement that something as revolutionary as this had happened in that experiment and he was hoping with all of his scientific knowledge that his theory was correct, that there had indeed been a change in Lisa's body over the years, that the viruses inside her had changed, mutated and grown into a more powerful creation for them to use. He bet all of his entire work and successes up to this point on his one theory, firmly believing that he was right and, judging from the faint glimmer of emotion he had seen on his face during their conversation, Wesker did too; after all, he was by far not an incompetent moron like the others and he had been involved with near enough all of Umbrella's research since the beginning, so he had to have come to the same conclusion as well.

Funny enough, Birkin had fiercely opposed the experiment beforehand, making strong claims that they didn't need any help from the other divisions in any of their work, since the American Division's resources were more than enough to help him in his work and he had (by far) made all of the greatest junctures, achievements and steps in their biological weapon development, what with the Hunters and the Tyrants, so he had forcefully rejected Wesker's idea to begin with.

But, naturally, Wesker had got the upper hand in the argument by stating the absolute obvious flaw in their endeavors; they lacked the proper specimens and knowledge to solve the dilemmas with the Tyrants. After all, Birkin, with Annette's greatly appreciated assistance, had been the one to uncover the existence of the rare genetic trait that produced the 'buffer' hormone in a host's brain cells and create the Proto-Tyrant BOW using this hormone, thus he was already fully aware that this hormone was only present in 10 of any population, causing a great decline in the availability of Tyrant hosts, so he concurred to Wesker's suggestion, despite the point that he would only serve as a consultant in providing assistance, preferring not to indulge himself in working on someone else's flawed project, the Nemesis being a prime example from what he had read in the research data.

Yet, despite everyone's expectations, including Birkin's own limited views of success on the flawed project and Wesker's meticulous planning of the experiment (judging from the expression on his face at the time), none of them had ever considered the outcome that had transpired in Lisa's body. At first, Birkin had merely believed that the parasite had managed to merge with her successfully and she was just rendered in a comatose state at the shock of its invasion into her brain, judging from what had happened when he had observed Lisa's severe reaction at the parasite's spread into her brain, but when Sarton showed them the data still being monitored by the transmitters, explained their functionality and creation for Umbrella's work, and how the devices were used in the experiment, all of his small predictions had been completely swept aside, and in their place was left a mixture of surprise and awe; he claimed that, despite the transmitter which was still functioning properly and the parasite was still alive inside Lisa, something had happened inside her that had affected the Nemesis and changed it considerably enough that they were not able to find it anymore, thus allowing her to somehow consume the Nemesis and live through it.

As the evidence provided by the data and all of Sarton's words sunk into their mind, each of them couldn't figure out how this could have happened, how Lisa could have successfully consumed Nemesis and lived, despite everything they knew about the parasite, Birkin himself finding it rather perplexing that the woman had survived with Nemesis inside her when previous test subjects on the NE-Alphas had not, his loathing and contempt for the project becoming over shadowed by his inquisitive scientific curiosity.

Then, whilst overhearing Wesker and Sarton's conversation with half an ear, something had clicked inside his mind, something that seemed to provide a thread of logic in the vast confusion that was weighing down on everyone's minds, something that he had briefly considered sheer ridicule at the mention of it but gradually began to think that it was probably true, as it had been a vastly different yet minutely similar experience in the past Progenitor research.

_Who would have believed that a small fragment of Marcus' research might have actually provided us with some form of a theory to the experiment?_

When Birkin had made his point back then about the changes in Lisa's body, the viruses inside her and the Nemesis itself, he somehow didn't understand himself why he had even suggested something from Marcus' own research at all, why the thought had ever entered his head to mention some small piece of detail that had been left forgotten for years. Maybe it had been something his memory had stored away in his subconscious after that event with his old mentor. Maybe it was a hint of knowledge that Birkin's scientific thinking had deemed relevant in their current work on the T-Virus and kept it stashed away for reflection if needed. Or maybe it had been something that his emotional center had flashed to him from when Wesker had reminded him of the consequences should they inform Spencer of any failure or lack of results on their part.

Nevertheless, once Birkin had mentioned it, he soon started to believe it and began to run it through a quick assessment, giving it some considerable thought and comparing it with all of the knowledge he had accumulated over the years of work in college, university and his career in Umbrella's employment, his mind considering the possibility it might be true and hastily picking out all the details that applied to the conditions of the experiment, attempting to create a reasonable explanation on what had happened in the experiment and trying to discern how this little piece of his old mentor's work fit into it all, until at last he had managed to deduce a plausible theory that composed of all of the data and form it into something that made proper sense, one that applied to not only the experiment and the outcome it had brought but also the part of Marcus' research that had sparked his curiosity to begin with. Once he was sure that he was right, giving a couple of seconds more thought and deduction, he explained his theory to Wesker in private (to prevent confidential information from being leaked), providing vivid details and knowledge on the subject, mentioning the small aspect of Marcus' own work into the theory and how it came into play, knowing full well that Wesker would understand, being a scientist himself, yet still regarding his colleague's expression carefully for any trace of doubt.

However, Wesker had agreed with Birkin's theory after some thought and had considered it to be plausible enough to give to Spencer, obviously intrigued by the notion and had come to the same conclusion as him, understanding all of the details and evidence provided due to his participation in all of their research into the T-Virus, deciding to investigate it and began making preparations to uncover if what Birkin said was right because, when he had seen the data along with Birkin and heard the explanations given to him, he had been unable to figure anything out himself on what might have occurred, the faint glimmer of astonishment that flickered briefly on his cool expression enough of a statement to Birkin, thus he had went along with Birkin's theory as it was the only thing that made sense of the situation. However, they all were aware that stating a theory and proving one were two completely different things entirely in their line of work, and in order to provide Spencer with some form of results, they needed to obtain some measure of proof to support it. Hence why Birkin had been up most of the night trying to uncover the evidence he needed to prove his theory, reading through all of the copies of the new research data on Lisa, the old notes on the Progenitor and T-Virus that Marcus had made twenty years back, and all of the G.A.S (Genetic Analysis Simulation) results on Lisa's and the parasite's DNA that he had brought home with him to his study.

But, so far, he had found nothing at all that supported his theory; not in the results, not in Marcus old notes or in the G.A.S programs that continued to play out on-screen, and he was beginning to feel the stress of his impatience and the strain of his fatigue weigh down on him as the answers continued to elude him.

_Come on!! I know there is something here, somewhere in these results! There is always an answer to be found somewhere and I know it's in these results!!_

If he had possessed the time, he would have stayed up in his study longer and continued his frivolous search, but Annette was waiting for him downstairs and he knew that she would come back up to bring him down for his dinner, being as persistent as she was.

Sighing deeply, he stood up from his desk and walked over towards the door, leaving the computer on and letting it run through its programs in silence, stepped out onto the landing and shut the door behind him, turning right down the landing and walking along it until he reached the set of stairs leading downstairs on his right, taking them down two at a time, his shoes thumping on the wooden steps, the noise sounding strong despite the green carpet running across the steps, reaching the bottom and turning left into the kitchen.

It was a simple kitchen, walls covered in cream-colored ceramic tiles, the floor coated in a reflective chess-board tile pattern, a small light bulb flickering in its usual rapid successions on the large ceiling fan that spun on its ceiling perch above the large wooden table beneath it, the window over the sink and cooker open widely to allow some of the cold summer breeze inside to cool off the warm heat of the July evening. Annette was standing in front of the cooker, scooping out large quantities of spaghetti Bolinaze onto a plate she held in her hand, another plate currently placed in front of one of the plain wooden chairs seated by the table, the food on top giving off faint traces that lingered in the air briefly before being blown away by the breeze through the window; and in a small high-chair placed in a corner of the table, the one closest to Annette, sat their two year old daughter Sherry, wearing a pale blue Baby-Grows suit covered in pictures of teddy bears dancing around holding either juggling balls or umbrellas, smiling widely in that goofy manner all babies did, her right hand eagerly smashing the spoon she held into an orange bowl sitting in front of her, scattering food everywhere.

Birkin chuckled, finding it rather funny to watch his daughter make a mess of herself and the kitchen in her spout of excitement, an affectionate smile flashing on his lips at his daughter, who smiled back and laughed at him happily, knocking her bowl of food onto the floor with a loud splat and clatter. Despite the fact that half of his mind, the logical and career-focused center of his brain, was deeply irritated at the time he was spending raising his family when he could be back doing something more productive, such as finding the solutions to bring the Tyrant Project back to speed or to unveil the mystery of Lisa's unique condition, the emotional side of his mind, the part that housed his love and care for his family, was enjoying the small moments of peace he was having with his family, away from all of the work and stress that Umbrella demanded of him, to experience some form of the warmth and comfort that a loving family could provide.

_I still can't believe that I have a real family for me to raise._

When Annette had told him about her condition and the reasons she had been unavailable to help him in his work, about her pregnancy and how close she was to having their child, Birkin had been utterly shocked, astounded that he and Annette were about to have their own child, their own family together, so soon after their marriage, although partly (the 'scientist' in him calling forth) was devastated that he would now have to waste valuable work time sorting through the average, every-day problems that a family went through. However, he ignored those thoughts and made a firm resolve, to both himself and Annette, that he would make an attempt to raise their child as the father he was obligated to be, gladly willing to sacrifice some of his time at work to spend with them at home, because he loved both Annette and Sherry, and he wanted nothing more than to please them. On the other hand though, despite how much he cared for his family and was willing to spend some of his time with them, he was in no way going to give up on his work, his being still driven by the same firm resolve, determination and vigor that had spurred him on in the past, that had thrust him deep into Umbrella's employment and charged him through all of the BOW developments for the corporation, and was more focused than ever to continue his work on the T-Virus; he was then and was now still a scientist, and that part of his nature would never die down.

Thus, under his new schedule, Birkin stayed from seven to eleven in the morning at home with Annette and Sherry, helping her around the house and getting their daughter ready for a new day, then he travelled to Arklay in his car along the hiking trail and began his work at half-noon, working away on the T-Virus and the BOW projects until six in the afternoon, taking his car back to his home where he would spend the next few hours of the evening with his family, occasionally working on some preliminary research up in his study, Annette herself rarely visiting the labs only to remind of something important at home, taking the courtesy car that Umbrella had generously provided them.

_Not much of a compromise, but at least everyone is satisfied. But, if only I could-_

He was brought sharply out of his thoughts right then by the feeling of something wet and sticky being thrown at his face, the sticky substance smacking into his cheek, and he turned to see his daughter giggling gleefully at him, clutching a piece of her meal in her hand, having decided that he was a perfect target for her food assault.

Annette looked over her shoulder at Birkin, smirking at him as he wiped off the food with the sleeve of his shirt, then shifted her gaze to Sherry and took notice of her dinner now lying on the floor.

"Oh, Sherry," she said, picking up the bowl and dunking it in the sink before walking over to her ecstatic child. "You really are a grubby little monster, aren't you? Aren't you?" she claimed in the tone of voice that parents used to speak to their children, one that Birkin would have particularly annoying if it had been someone else.

Sherry simply giggled, but her cries of laughter were soon cut off as Annette pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping her face down, Sherry attempting to move her head away from her mother's hands.

Birkin glanced up at them, smiling affectionately, and took a seat in front of his dinner, already helping himself to it as Annette took the cloth away to reveal a relatively clean baby and walked over to the cooker, taking up her dinner and sitting herself down.

"She enjoys making a mess. I don't know where she gets it from," Birkin stated in between mouthfuls of the hot food.

Annette chuckled through a mouthful food, placing a hand over her mouth to swallow the food and glanced up at him. "It must come from you," she stated dryly.

Birkin looked up sharply at her, wearing a feigned angry expression. "What do you mean she gets it from me?" he asked incredulously.

Annette laughed, Sherry's own tiny voice joining in just to be noticed. "Have you seen your office back at the labs!? One can hardly move inside there at all, what with all of the papers that you leave scattered all about the place and don't even bother to clean up. Honestly, I was surprised you could sleep in all that mess, let alone live in it," she retorted, snickering slightly.

Birkin gave off a small laugh in response, enjoying the sound of Annette's laughter as she joined in, the sound causing all of the stress and strain of the past days to leave him, to offer a single moment of truly peaceful rest. That was one of the main reasons that he loved Annette, her ability to erase all of his worries, doubts and troubles with just a single action or sound of her voice, her praise a soothing balm to his strenuous mind and body, especially during that time when Alexia Ashford had arrived, when the Arklay laboratories had fallen into catastrophe and his success had faded into dust.

Having her around made him feel like he could accomplish the impossible, that there was nothing that would ever cause him any distress or bring his research to a crashing, and that he had the power to make the most ridiculous of fiction in the barest of facts when he had her at his side providing assistance with her keen intelligence, rigid concentration and fast understanding of everything that had happened in their work together. And although she had now fully taken on her role as a mother instead of a scientist, that feeling of success and support didn't fade away because he knew that she would always be ready to help whenever he began to falter, a helping hand to steer him back on the path, a firm solid pillar of strength for him to grasp when he felt weakened, the connection between them still burning strong as on the day when they first met.

However, soon the sounds of their laughter died out and the pair of them went back to eating their dinners, the conversation between them fading away and their attention diverted to finishing the food still on their plates, the room growing silent as the evening outside, no words being exchanged between the couple and no sounds made in the room, except for Sherry giving off the occasional giggle or slam of her spoon on the high-chair table. The meal times at the Birkin household were normally passed in silence as each of them became engrossed in a different topic, calmly eating their meals as their thoughts revolved around something else of importance to them, such as Birkin's work for Umbrella; even when he was at home helping his family and caring for Sherry, or spending some quiet time with Annette in the living room watching the sunset outside the window and enjoying the romantic atmosphere that enveloped them, his work never once left his thoughts, merely resorted to being pushed back into his subconscious for him to focus on again when he had the time to disappear into his upstairs study and continue working or to plan on what he was to do when he returned to the mansion.

Annette, however, didn't allow the silence to remain forever. "How's your new research project coming along?" she asked, out of the blue.

Birkin groaned in exhaustion. "Slowly. We just can't seem to find any hint at what had happened to the parasite we implanted inside Lisa a few days ago. I think that something had developed inside of Lisa and had attacked the parasite when it became aware of it's presence, but there is no evidence to suggest this so far."

Annette nodded and took another mouthful of food. "What does Spencer think?"

Birkin shrugged his shoulder slightly. "He said that he was greatly concerned about the fact that we lost the Nemesis, but when he had read through the report, he claimed he was most eager to find out what has happened to the parasite in this experiment as that was the main focus of it to begin with and that he expects a full disclosure at the next meeting, along with any results which provide an explanation to Lisa's merger with the Nemesis," he answered, eating the last scraps of his dinner.

"And what does Albert think?" she asked, her face taking on a solemn disposition, a deep frown forming on her lips.

For reasons she often mentioned to him during their time together, Annette had always felt nervous around Wesker since she had became his assistant and Birkin had introduced her to his old friend, and, although Wesker didn't reveal any signs that he was irritated by Annette's presence (well, any sign that Birkin could find on his cool demeanor), Birkin wasn't blind to the emotions playing on his wife's face every time she was to work with Wesker, her agitation and anxiety always creeping forth on her expression in an attempt to ruin the professional atmosphere that she maintained with Wesker at all times. However, if Annette often felt the need to talk about Wesker, she only spoke with Birkin on the matter when they were in private, finding it difficult to speak to anyone else about him and, over the months of working with him, had taken to calling the man by his first name, as if to try and rationalize her fear by using Wesker's forename as an indicator that showed he was as human as he looked.

Birkin glanced up at Annette, taking into account that her eyes were fixed on the forkful of food she was twirling on her plate, and put his cutlery down on his clean plate, leaning forward slightly across the table and clasping his hands together. "I am not really sure. Over the past few months, he has been keeping to himself a lot and has rarely spoken with me about anything in our work, but I believe that he feels the same way I do, that there is something to find in Lisa, so he's scrapping all of the original data and having it all done again from scratch in order to determine if anything HAS happened in Lisa," he explained, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Annette looked back up at him, meeting his gaze firmly despite the emotions playing on her face, and nodded, standing up from her chair and taking her plate in her hand, walking around to Birkin's chair and taking his empty plate, before placing them in the sink and turning on the tap, filling the stainless-steel tub full of hot water.

"I'll take care of the washing-up. Would you take Sherry into the living room and put her in her play area for me, please?" she asked kindly, picking up a sponge and squeezing some dark green washing-up liquid onto it.

Birkin stood up and walked over to Sherry, who was still giggling and jumping around in her chair, taking her up in his arms and carried her from the kitchen into the living room across the hall at the opposite side. The living room itself was standard, a large green sofa and two brown armchairs placed around a small glass coffee table in front of a TV set, a lamp shade standing on a cabinet placed between the sofa and armchairs, the windows behind the TV and on the wall to his left open slightly to let some of the cool wind in, the cream-colored drapes flapping weakly in the breeze, a dark brown carpet covered the floor and a large square cot sat beside the armchairs, several baby toys and building blocks scattered around its soft, plushy interior.

He strolled over to the cot and placed her down inside, tickling her under her chin that had was wet with drool, smiling as Sherry laughed and swatted her tiny hands at his finger, and turned away, heading out the door and back up the stairs.

"You're going back to your study?" Annette asked, her voice emanating from the kitchen, over the sound of rushing water and clinking crockery.

"Yeah. I need to get these results finished in time for the next meeting and Wesker wants me to at least spend some time on them here anyway," he called back, stopping halfway up the stairs.

"Okay! Would you like some dessert? Or would you prefer your usual cup of coffee?" she hollered, the running water cut off sharply.

"Just coffee, thanks dear," he answered, walking up the rest of the stairs to the landing.

_With all the work I have to do, I sure as Hell am going to need it._

He reached the top of the landing and turned down the hallway to the left, walking along the landing until he reached the door to his study, the first door on the left-hand side, opening it slightly-

_Oh, what now?_

-to hear the sound of a high-pitched series of rapid pings and chimes echoing out in a random sequence, the automated alarm programmed into his computer to go off whenever something was happening on the blasted machine.

Stepping inside, he hurried over to his desk, forgetting to switch on the light and close the door, allowing a small measure to shine through the crack and partly illuminate the dreary confines of his study, and took a seat in front of the computer, his hand gliding over the mouse and dragging the pointer over to where the problem was originating from, his eyes narrowing slightly in anger as he recognized the file that was causing the alarm; one of the G.A.S results on Lisa's body, which he double-clicked on to open it up, the alarm canceling out in the process.

However, when he noticed what it was that appeared on the screen and read all of the words that ran down beside it, his eyes immediately snapped wide as baseballs, his hands growing numb in shock and his mouth hung agape in stunned realization; it was a picture of a sample from Lisa's DNA sequence, the double-helix shaped, multi-colored structure slowly rotating in a large black box on the left-hand side of the screen, along with long sequences of letters that formed it's amino acid chain scrolled out next to it in the pale gray background that surrounded the black box; at first glance, it was just the same as all of the other samples that had been collected, but as he continued to watch, several small parts of the strands broke away from the whole structure, all of them flying off-screen, only to be replaced by other parts from the DNA of the Nemesis, the molecular structure slowly starting to change as the other parts sunk in perfectly, the letter sequences of its amino acid chain rewriting themselves into an entirely new sequence, into something altogether different from the original strand, into a completely new strain than even the combined-viral one that flowed through her veins.

After the show of molecular mutation and genetic changes stopped, Birkin immediately began to open up all of the other files on the rest of the samples, watching as the individual DNA strands recorded on them began to break apart and be replaced by DNA pieces from the Nemesis, the entire structure gradually changing into the new one and the amino acid sequence hastily rewriting itself, following the example of the first one, changing and mutating gradually until all that was left was a single viral strain, one that was entirely different from anything they had seen. Once he watched all of the DNA strands change into the new genetic formation of the first one, he clutched several pieces of paper in his hands and rummaged through them hastily, scattering most of them back onto the floor and across his desk, his eyes darting across each of the lines and words printed on the paper, his mind registering all of the results that had been made on Lisa's tests, reading about how they had observed that the samples of her viral-infected blood had attacked and infected the DNA of its hosts in a matter of seconds, mutating it in a limit of seconds after its invasion of the cell, changing the cell into something that not even the T-Virus could produce.

As the last sheet of paper fell from his frozen hands and settled to the floor unattended, Birkinslumped back in his chair and stared blankly at the screen, his entire body frozen in place in surprise and disbelief at what he had just seen, at what had happened just then before his eyes and what he had just read on all of the results before him, his mind rushing forward a mile a minute in a frenzy to interpret everything that he had found. he slowly started to chuckle softly to himself, his lips forming a victorious smile, but his laughter grew louder and louder until he was full-out cheering in triumphant glee, his smile widened long enough that it threatened to split his head in two, his mind swimming in explicit joy and mirth.

_I did it!! I found it!! I found what we were looking for!! I was right all along!!_

What he had just seen, what he had just discovered, had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that his theory was right, that the viruses inside of Lisa's body had indeed been breeding inside her, spreading, growing, mutating and reproducing throughout her entire form, re-creating themselves again and again, until naught but a single strain was left, one that was neither Progenitor nor T-Virus, but a combination of all of them, forming a more powerful biological weapon than either of its predecessors. And when the Nemesis had invaded her brain, this new strain had been what had caused the problem, had been the reason behind the loss of the Nemesis parasite, in that it struck back against its invading counterpart and consumed it to protect itself from being expelled from its host, overcoming the entire organism easily.

But that had only been the catalyst, the starting point of a greater achievement because, when it had consumed the Nemesis, it had been extracting parts of the parasite's DNA to combine with itself, using the traces of the T-Virus inside it to grow even stronger, absorbing and replacing parts of its own genetic structure with the Nemesis DNA, mutating and reproducing again at such an alarmingly rate that it had changed again in a matter of weeks, all of the viral strains that were the foundations of its original form having merged and adapted with the pieces of the parasite it had absorbed.

_It was just like Marcus had said in his notes!! The viruses and their DNA had been reproduced over so many generations inside of Lisa that they had soon merged together and modified into an even more potent virus than before!_

In that small pause during his moment of ecstatic clarity, Birkin wondered whether Marcus had felt the same when he had discovered the T-Virus as he did now with his new discovery, whether he had felt alight with success and mirth at what he had made, his triumph sparked alight in a blaze at what he had accomplished through his entire career with Umbrella and his curiosity already brimming over what this new virus would represent to his work in the future, and he assumed that he probably had done since both of them had been scientists, focused on the work, on the tasks ahead and on finding the possibilities with what they had before them, trying to uncover the true worth of their scientific endeavors whilst at the same time keeping Spencer at bay with results and suggestions that would have delayed his inevitable desires for what they made. After all, in a way, this was a repetition of those fateful circumstances that led to the creation of the T-Virus and the emotions that were brought up at the sheer possibilities at what had been opened up before them.

However, Birkin felt oblivious to those thoughts, to everything else around him as he leaped up from his chair and began cheering loudly, pumping his fists in the air in a sign of victory, ignoring his wife who stood in the doorway holding a cup of warm coffee, looking at him like he was some kind of deranged lunatic, because, with this new virus that he had discovered, he realized that he finally located the one thing he had always sought in live, had completed the one dream he held in the highest regard to his career and had found what it was that had spurred him on through Umbrella in the first place.

Ever since he was a child, Birkin had been fascinated by science and he had made it his lifelihood to follow the path of scientist, to work hard to become a great researcher in all the known fields of science and to gain a substantial career that would allow him to work on whatever he wished for as long as he wanted. This was because he wanted to be known throughout the world, to be recognized by the scientific community as an incredible genius for having created a masterpiece of science that would be reverred for years to come, to be remembered throughout the course of history as one of the world's greatest achievements; that had been one of the main reasons he had leaped at the chance to join Umbrella when the offer was made to him after university since they were the biggest corporation dedicated to the world of science, possessing both enormous wealth and global recognition, meaning they had access to the world's most advanced technology for them to work on their pharmaceutical development.

However, Birkin wasn't interested in working on pharmaceuticals, due to the fact that everyone everywhere in the world knew about the existence of every pharmaceutical out there, what they did and how helpful they were if they were hurt or injured, making the drugs as commonplace as the diseases they were created to fight, thus Birkin had only went to the corporation to use their resources for work of his choosing, but despite his academic achievements and his vast knowledge of science, they had placed him in a training facility with others far beneath his abilities. But, when Albert Wesker had offered his proposition of a partnership and both of them had been shown to the true intentions of the Umbrella Corporation, Birkin believed that the answers to his ideals lied inside the Progenitor, that he could create something incredible from it, something that the world had never seen (even though the virus itself and the BOWs made from it were certainly something that the world would never see) and so he dedicated his entire attention to finding the answers in the virus, frivolously working through years and years of research in hopes to find what it was he wanted to accomplish his goals. Now, his hard work had been rewarded.

_And I have found it! I found the one thing I need to create the ultimate masterpiece, to create something that will be a reflection of my genius for years to come and something that no one, not even that little bitch Alexia can upstage or destroy._

"William? What on earth are you doing?" Annette asked, stepping up close to him yet keeping her distance from his frantic movements.

Birkin stopped and snapped his head at his wife, finally noticing she was there, his cheeks flushing with embarassment at what she saw.

He cleared his throat in a vain attempt to hide his embarassment and said, "I have found it, Annette! The answer we have been searching for ever since the experiment."

Annette arched an eyebrow at him, her face masked with interest. "What do you mean?"

Birkin pointed over at his desk, the notes scattered around it and the computer still switched on on top. "Take a look at the notes," he stated.

Annette glanced at the desk then back at Birkin, her expression looking sceptic, but she merely shrugged her shoulders and went over to the desk, handing Birkin his cup of coffee. She spent the next few minutes reading through all of the notes and analyzing the computer files on the G.A.S results in silence, obviously studying up on the experiment and evaluating all of the data for herself, as she had been at home with Sherry during the experiment, but when she had finally examined every piece of information, he heard her gasp in shock and turn around to face him, her eyes wide and her face looking dumbfounded.

"Is this true!?" she asked, her voice nearly rising to a shrill shriek.

Birkin nodded vigorously. "Yes, Annette, it is!! All that time we had ignored Lisa, all that time we spent producing Hunters and making Tyrant, and left the girl locked away, the viruses we gave to her had been changing and merging together to create a single strain. And when we had administered the Nemesis, this new strain had been what had consumed it, but instead of destroying, it has been absorbing its DNA and combining it with its own, mutating both the parasite, Lisa and the strain further, acting as a catalyst to form the new strain you can see on the files," he explained, his voice edged with enthusiasm.

Annette glanced back and forth hastily between the screen and her husband, her face alight with excitement and worry at the same time. "What should we do? How should we proceed from here?"

"First, I have to contact Wesker and tell him what I have found, then get all this data stored away and take it back to Arklay with me, so Wesker can get it sorted and ready for Spencer to see. In the meantime, I am going to conduct some minor tests with this new strain to examine how it reacts to different environments, hosts, cell samples etc." he explained, taking a sip of his coffee as he stepped up to his desk and took a seat.

Annette nodded sternly. "Alright. I'll help you once I have put Sherry to bed," she stated, walking out the room and shutting the door gently behind her.

Birkin stared at the shut door for a few seconds before turning back to his desk, gathering up all the notes that were still scattered on the floor and placing them back on the table neatly, then he went back to the computer, taking out a CD-ROM and placing it inside the hard-drive, saving all of the files onto his machine for his own use, then copying them to the CD for him to take back to Arklay, taking out the briefcase that he had left underneath the desk and placing the notes inside the top, the CD in a side-pcoket; hopefully all of the notes he had would be enough for Wesker to make a detailed report about the strain, whilst he can simply use Genetic Analysis Program installed on his own computer to perform his preliminary experiments with the-

Suddenly, a thought popped into Birkin's head, one that he had never even considered, since there were more important things to focus, such as the research on the new strain and getting a report ready for Spencer to look through at the next meeting in order to get the research approved, but it was something he couldn't seem to shake now; he didn't have a name to call this new strain by.

Normally, he wouldn't be bothered with such a thing, claiming that it was trivial and insignificant in the long run, yet he felt that it just didn't suit him to work on something without at least giving it some form of a title; Marcus had done it with the Tyrant-Virus, naming it after Lord Oswell E. Spencer, the tyrant of the Umbrella Corporation and the man whom all were forced to answer to, probably using it to remark about the similarities between them, in that they were both capable of killing off as many people as the saw fit. So, Birkin thought that he should maybe give it a name to commorate its existence, to give it a title to refer it to, maybe as something of reference to what had helped create it.

Then it came to him in a flash; this would be his masterpiece, his glorious success in the realms of science, his greatest achievement in his entire career, and one of the main advances he had learned about science was genetics.

And since this virus was created from the genetics of several viruses merging together into one, he decided to call it the Gene-Virus.

Or, for a more appropriate name, the G-Virus...

**Here it is; the second half of the chapter!! This has been the longest chapter I have ever written for my story and I hope you'll enjoy it!!**

**Also, I do pray that my explanation of the G-Virus' creation is easy to understand, since it took me ages to think of the best explanation for it and I hope I have explained how Nemesis and Lisa fit into it as well.**

**Finally, I hope that everyone is still in character, especially with Wesker and Birkin. And, to all Ada fans out there, I am happy to announce that I will soon be giving the lovely femme-fatale Miss Ada Wong her first appearance in this story very soon.**

**Anyway, hope you like this chapter, please read and review!**

**And stay tuned for chapter 40!!**


	40. Chapter 40

Forty

Three years past, and nothing seemed to change in the world. The sun continued to rise and set across the planet as the Earth spun on its never-ending axis, the seasons came and went on their usual cycle of a peaceful spring, an active summer, a colorful autumn and a chilling winter, the clouds flowed across the vast ocean of sky, either clustering together to form great dark masses that brought the onslaught of rain and soft gentle coming of snow or parting about into small white specks to allow the bright rays to shine down on the ground below, occasionally accompanied by the wind with its soft, gentle breezes or strong, violent gusts, following the same pattern that Mother Nature had designated for them throughout the many months that passed.

And it was the same for the people that walked across the Earth. For each and every one of them, the passing months and years were just merely another set of ordinary routines in their busy lives, simply another time that they worked and lived through, barely taking any notice of the changing seasons except for when the Easter Eggs had to be opened in Spring, when their children came running and screaming from their schools in celebration of their summer vacation, when the trees and plants began to change into the vast mosaic of colors that came with autumn, and when the vast sheets of snow that covered signified the start of the Christmas Countdown in Winter, the days that flown by hardly ever showing signs of change.

However, for the Umbrella corporation, the last three years of research and development on their BOW programs had brought them new and greater changes. Over the passages of the seasons and time, all of the people under Umbrella's employment had continued on with each of their individual tasks as per usual, the guards providing safety to everyone working away in their facilities and maintaining security that nobody attempted to steal their products, the technicians fixing all of the technology placed around the laboratories for the scientists to use and keeping all of the labs vital system running ship-shape as always. But for the scientists who worked on the 'black' projects of the corporation, their research and development on the T-Virus had finally provided them with something worthwhile to use, some new results to present, new ideas to try and new possibilities to explore, and from all these new endeavors, they were creating even more powerful BOWs for the corporation and had successfully managed to uncover a method of solving the problems surrounding the Tyrant Project.

Yet, all of this success came with a price.

During a cool, quiet evening in the middle of spring, the sun slowly setting on the horizon in a beautiful rendering of red and orange light, succumbing to the creeping darkness that filled the sky behind it, bringing along the bright twinkles of starlight and the glowing mass of rock that was the moon, the barren wasteland that resided in the forest surrounding Christina Henri's estate was devoid of life, the entire area falling silent as all of the lights and machinery in the building was shut down, the trucks parked amongst the tents and all of the soldiers gone into their tents to sleep, except for the few that were assigned to patrol the area around the fence and the underground parking-lot, and guard the toll-station on the mountain road for the night-shift. And inside the large lab complex hidden beneath it, several guards were also on late-shift patrol, calmly strolling around the empty corridors on all floors of the facility, weapons fully loaded and eyes scanning the areas that were lit by the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, occasionally glancing into the dark and deserted rooms that littered the floors, all of the staff having closed down the laboratories and offices to go back to their dormitories for rest, leaving the power on for the security systems, the lights and the stasis tubes where all of the BOWs were stored.

On the first floor of the complex, a single guard sat behind a desk inside a large surveillance room, watching each of the monitors carefully for any signs of trouble, switching his gaze from screen to screen to see everything that was being monitored by the cameras placed throughout the complex, his cup of steaming coffee sitting next to the keyboard in front of him. Late-shift patrols were always a boring and exhausting task for the security, especially for those stuck with monitoring the cameras for any glitches or signs of trouble, and although nearly every one of the guards felt obligated to catch a few winks of sleep when they could, they knew that if the higher-ups ever caught them sleeping on the job, their asses would be strung up on the wall, so they decided to drink as much coffee as needed to keep them awake through the long and dreary shift.

The guard glanced at each of the monitors in turn, checking the small colored images paying on the screens carefully, until he noticed something on one of the monitors that caught his attention, causing him to pull out the radio on his belt, tune it to the right frequency and hit the 'Transmit' button.

"Hey, Rich! Put out that cigarette!" he ordered sharply, glancing up at the monitor in question.

The image on the screen was showing a view of the second floor hallway section where the elevators were and the double-metal doors that led to the cafeteria, and as he zoomed the camera angle in a little, he saw a single guard standing outside the pair of doors, lighting up a cigarette between his lips, taking a brief whiff of it and blowing it up towards the roof.

Rich looked down at his radio when the message came through and glanced up at the camera watching him from its perch along the hallway, the red light on top blinking to show it was on, pulling out his own radio and bringing it to his lips, removing his cigarette with his free hand so he could speak clearly.

"Come on, Mikey!! I'm exhausted and I need this cigarette just to stay awake! What's the problem with one smoke!?!" he complained, his whining tone easy to hear over the radio.

Mikey rolled his eyes at Rich's complaint and pushed the 'Transmit' button. "That smoke's going to set off the fire alarm if you keep smoking it. And if the sprinklers activate down in the laboratories and all the research down there is ruined, Dubois is going to go ape shit," he answered sternly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, well fuck him! Those arrogant geeks are always causing trouble for us grunts and they just yell at us if we even try to help them with our 'limited thinking'. If his research gets damaged by my fag, I couldn't give a good damn about it," he retorted scornfully, taking another whiff of his cancer-stick just to prove his point.

Mikey sighed in exasperation, knowing full well that he was right. The professional relationship between the security and research staff was incredibly strained, in that there was very little co-operation or trust between them and they were generally known to argue a lot on matters of a conflict of interests because all of the scientists treated the security personnel as if they were mentally-retarded or immature children, claiming that they didn't barbarians interfering in their work, and all of the guards took to referring the scientists as pompous pricks with no love for anything but test-tubes and chemicals. However, despite whatever contempt or discontent was evident between the two personnel divisions, Spencer and the higher-ups had made it clear that they were all to work together without incident in order to ensure that the corporation stayed in power, so every member of staff had to co-operate with each other fully if they were to carry on with their work.

"Yeah. But if any of the research is damaged, Dubois will tell the director about it and once she finds out who it was that caused the alarm to go off, she'll be extremely furious," he replied in the radio.

Rich immediately jumped in fright as he realized that what he said was true and hastily put out his cigarette, throwing it down on the floor and rubbing it in thoroughly to prevent any smoke from rising that might trigger the alarm. Everybody in the European Division knew how spiteful and vicious Christina Henri could be if she ever got angry, her cold ice-queen demeanor and piercing glare enough to shake any man to his core even when she was somewhat in a good mood, and that if she did get angry with someone, they had better prove to her that they were still of some use to the corporation otherwise she would be sure to dispose of their useless services in a rather unpleasant manner, thus everybody in the European Division's staff made it their mission to try and avoid antagonizing their boss whenever possible.

He then looked back up at the camera with a glare on his face. "It's out now. You happy?" he asked sarcastically.

Mikey nodded, even though Rich couldn't see him. "Quite. Thanks," he replied, turning back to watch the other screens, even though he caught a glimpse of Rich extending his middle finger towards the camera before he focused his attention back on guarding the hallway.

Mikey continued to watch each of the screens carefully for any signs of trouble, occasionally calling some of the other guards on the radio to give them instructions or taking a few sips of his coffee, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen as long as he could before his eyelids started to grow heavy and he needed to take a drink of the brown lukewarm liquid to keep him awake. He placed his hand over his mouth as let out a long deep yawn and glanced at his watch briefly, noticing that it was nearly time for his shift to end and for someone else to take the surveillance room, which meant that he could finally catch up on some well-needed sleep, maybe make an outside call to some of his friends-

-but then, a single red warning light began flickering on one of the screens, indicating that there was something wrong somewhere in that area and that it needed immediate attention. He glanced up at the screen, taking in all of the features inside of the room that he could see and immediately recognized it as the BOW laboratory on Level 4, his body overcoming with a feeling of dreaded fear as he realized that the light meant a BOW was escaping; quickly, he picked up his radio, tuned it to the frequency of the guard stationed there (having memorized them all many times as he sat there for hours) and hit the 'Transmit' button.

"Lee! Hey, Lee! Are you there!?!" he asked urgently, biting his lower lip nervously as he gazed up at the screen, his hands growing cold and clammy.

Down on Level 4, Lee was busy strolling around the vast chamber of the lab, his hand placed tentatively over his pistol holster as he shone his flashlight around the darkened room, sweeping the beam of light along the grated floor to check the wiring for any damages that he would need to report to the technicians and the stasis tanks placed against the walls for any signs of movement from the creatures within, especially from the large humanoid-monster currently sleeping in the large tube at the center. Lee shuddered involuntarily, feeling a chill run up his spine and goosebumps break out on his skin at the sight of the thing as he flashed his flashlight over it, watching its large chest expand and contract with each breath, its tentacles that extended from its left arm swaying slightly besides it in a doze, its large tree-trunk legs floating above the floor in the clear green fluid and its horridly deformed head lowered against its chest, mercifully out of view for him to see its mutilated face. Lee absolutely hated late-patrol shifts like all the others, but he knew that he was the one who loathed it the most since he was the one who had first patrol duties in the BOW lab for four whole hours before relief and he was always terrified of going down there, due to the fact that all of the lights were turned off to keep the tanks powered, leaving the room pitched in darkness and wrapped in a tense silence, causing to feel very much afraid of the dark and jump at the slightest sound, worried that it was something sneaking up on him in the dark.

When the radio sputtered and Mikey's voice called to him, he screamed and pulled out his weapon, glancing around in each direction with wide staring eyes and trembling hands, his knuckles white on the gun's grip. Once he was assured that nothing was wrong, he slowly began to realize that it was just his radio and he laughed bashfully at his own silliness, taking out his radio and raising it to his lips.

"Yeah, Mikey, I'm here," he answered, doing his best to sound calm.

"Lee! The warning alarm has gone off in your area. Is everything alright!?!" he demanded.

Lee lowered the radio and glanced around the room at each of the tanks, gazing at the life-support monitors for each of them, taking note of the read-outs that were displayed on screen, seeing nothing that indicated there was any trouble and raised the radio back to his lips. "Everything is okay on my end," he stated firmly, tapping the pistol gently against his side. "You sure it was my area?"

He heard the clicking of keys on the other end as Mikey attempted to locate the source of the problem on the monitors. "Yeah...I did. The equipment here says it did detect something, but...Ah, piece of junk must have blown a fuse! Just a glitch on-"

The radio chatter was cut off suddenly at the sound of a loud crack of glass, emanating from somewhere in the room, causing Lee to nearly jumped out of his shoes, dropping the radio to the floor and grasping his weapon again tightly in shaking hands, snapping his gaze and weapon around the room in search for the source of the noise when he heard another dull thump followed by breaking glass. From behind him.

He immediately spun around, weapon raised-

-and looked with wide, horrified eyes at the large stasis tank in the center of the room where the humanoid creature was stored, watching as it drew its fist back from the glass, the glass having sprouted a spider-web pattern of cracks and chips from the impact, and slammed it in the glass again, causing pieces of it to fall out and smash on the floor, the liquid slowly draining through the holes, despite the point that the glass was reinforced and several meters thick.

Lee heard the radio continue spurting out chatter from Mikey, asking him what was happening, but he didn't pay any attention to it, his eyes focused on the large creature inside the tank that raised its fist to strike, lunging it outwards with great strength-

-and broke through the glass with a resonating crash, the streams of glass pieces falling and shattering on the floor around the tank, the clear green liquid splashing out in torrents and flowing through the grated floor, causing sparks and smoke to rise up from the machines underneath as they overloaded from their circuits being fried by the water, the creature itself stumbling out of its tank and landing in a crouch amongst the puddle of glass, its fist and knees bleeding from the glass that embedded itself in his skin.

Lee stood aghast, oblivious to the alarms that were now blaring loudly throughout the room and Mikey's voice that still came from the radio at his feet, his entire body frozen rigidly in place as he stared at the large creature before him, watching helplessly as it rose up to its feet, its tentacles flowing about its arm like snakes on a branch, the blood from its fist and knees trailing down its mottled brown skin in small rivets to drip on the floor, and raise its head up from its chest, its cold dead eyes locking onto his own, filled with intense rage and hatred.

And before Lee could do anything else, even scream, the creature charged at him, tentacles outstretched and pointed at his chest.

Mikey watched in stunned sickness and horror as the monitor played out what was happening in the BOW laboratory, watched as the monster charged at Lee and punched him square in the chest, using the tentacles on its left arm like spears to impale him on them, his screams gurgling to a stop as blood ran rapidly from his mouth and down his chest, before the monster started hoisting him effortlessly above its head, the tentacles curled around him like a cowboy's lasso, and slammed him down on the metal floor with a loud hard clang, then hoist him up again and slam him down again, repeating the process over and over until the only sound made was a wet sticky splat, dropping Lee's battered corpse onto the floor, rearing its head back and releasing a tremendous roar that Mikey could hear three floors up where he was.

He continued to stare at the screen, feeling saddened and terrified about what had happened, his hands clenched on his desk tightly and knuckles white on the back work-top, sweat breaking out on his forehead and running down his back as he stared blindly at the screen, watching the creature look around the room for a few moments, examining its surroundings for any other threats.

_This is bad!! Really bad!! We're fucked!!_ his fear-driven mind stammered in disbelief, all other thoughts left in the dark at the sight of the monster that was now free.

However, he immediately snapped out of his stupor when he noticed that the monster was walking over Lee's body towards the elevator doors, its blood-soaked tentacles flaying about its arm with some emotion he couldn't read on the monitor, its chest slowly expanding and contracting comfortably as it strolled across the room, its footsteps causing slight dents in the metal.

As protocol demanded, he slammed his hand down on the main alarm switch, sounding the alarm on every floor and causing the red emergencies to flash on in the entire complex, catching the guards immediate attention both inside and outside, the scientists snapping awake inside their dormitories, looking around to see what was wrong. Mikey turned away from the alarm switch and fumbled with the intercom switch on his desk, pressing it down firmly and leaning close enough for his lips to touch the microphone.

"This is a Biohazard Alert!! Repeat, Biohazard Alert!! The Nemesis Mark I has escaped and is on its way to the ground level!! All security personnel intercept the BOW immediately!! It MUST NOT leave the compound!! Repeat, all units intercept and restrain the Nemesis!!!" he yelled into the mike, his voice echoing through the cavernous halls and rooms of the complex, and the stretching dirt compound outside, although he had no idea how they were to stop it.

At those words, all of the Umbrella security personnel snapped into action, those inside the complex dashing for the emergency stairwells hidden on each floor and quickly ascending the stairs up to the parking lot, giving their weapons a brief check-over for damage or blockages and that it was fully loaded, Mikey himself grabbing his pistol on top of his desk and slapping in a fresh clip before taking off out the room for the stairs, joining the mad rush of guards and scientists heading upstairs; those who were outside snapped awake in their tents and hurried outside, grabbing weapons and ammo from the large crates placed around the outpost before sprinting over to the small square building behind the outpost that housed the parking lot, the officers amongst them barking out orders sharply to surround the elevator doors and get ready for the Nemesis, all of the guards lining up in front of the elevator with their weapons raised, the scientists standing behind them, looking very much frightened, although Dubois had an eager expression on his face.

Down on Level 4, the Nemesis stomped over to the elevator doors, blood dripping of the tip of its tentacles along the floor, its breath harsh and raspy behind its mutilated face, the red emergency lights that continually flashed in the room giving it an unearthly aura, and swung its fists at them, the metal denting outwards on impact, then struck the metal doors again and again, until it was able to fit its large bulky fingers inside the gap between the doors and pull them apart, the doors letting a long screeching groan as the Nemesis forced them off their rails and bending them outwards, exposing the deep metal elevator shaft inside.

The Nemesis glanced inside, looking down below to see the elevator car was stationary at the floor below and then gazed upwards to see the shaft extend further above to the ground floor, where it could see a small shaft of light gleaming at the very top, an indication of the outside world, of the fresh air and open wilderness beyond. Of the large amount of people gathered up on that floor, the stench of their sweat and blood wafting down to where it stood, its nostrils flaring at the intoxicating stench. Raising back its left arm over its head, it leaned through the doors inside the elevator shaft, clasping its right hand onto the top of the door frame for support as it swung its left arm forward over its shoulder like a baseball toss, the tentacles stretching outwards from its arm into the shaft and curling themselves tightly around a large metal strut on the opposite wall. Taking a few steps back, the Nemesis charged forward and leaped through the ruined doors into the shaft, swinging along the drop of the shaft by its tentacles and hit the opposite wall with a loud crunch, its feet breaking the concrete as it hit the wall with a large cloud of dust billowing out into the shaft and pieces of stone falling down onto the elevator car beneath it with a loud clang, but it was unaffected by the dust that flowed around its face or the noise of the concrete hitting the car below, paying them no heed as it focused its attention on escaping, on reaching the top floor where the scent of fresh air flowed down to it, placing its right hand onto the strut and hoisting up high enough for it to loop his whole right arm around it, the metal beginning to groan in protest at the extra weight holding onto it and bend downwards.

Glancing around the shaft, it noticed another metal strut further up above its head, just a few feet below the doors that opened out onto the third floor, the small shade of light that peeked through the crack in the doors shining on the dull metal and the sleek black metal cable suspended in the middle of the shaft, and, using the same method it used to get out of the floor, it uncurled its tentacles from the strut it was hanging from, supporting its entire body using the muscles of its right arm, swung its left left arm over its head and snapped its towards the strut, the tentacles stretching across the shaft with lightening speed and wrapping themselves tightly around the strut; once it was sure that the tentacles were secure after several tugs to see if the strut was firmly placed on the wall, the Nemesis pushed itself away from the wall, landed against the wall with a loud crunch and hoisted itself up to the strut, looping its right arm over the side for support.

It continued on up the shaft for several more minutes, using its tentacles as a hoist to scale the shaft via the struts and a grappling hook to swing across the shaft continuously as its tentacles wrapped around the struts that it could reach on the walls without any trouble, the Nemesis gradually climbing up the shaft meter by meter until it finally reached the ground floor, the muffled sounds of hushed conversations, barked orders, loading weapons, running footsteps on concrete and the wailing cry of the sirens outside reaching its ears from behind the doors. Growling deeply in its throat withthe rage and anger that had grown inside it at the people behind those doors, it leaned back on the wall, keeping a tight grip on the strut with its right hand as it unwrapped the tentacles from around the strut, the metal creaking in response to the strength of the hand pulling on it, threatening to tear it from the wall, swung its left arm over its shoulder and, instead of aiming for the strut that was placed below the elevator doors, it brought its arm over its shoulder and extended it the strut that laid a few meters above the doors, the sleek , rope-like muscular appendages wrapping themselves around the strut tightly.

After giving it a few quick tugs to be sure it was secure, the Nemesis hoisted itself up onto the strut it was hanging from to get level with the doors, turning itself around as far as it could with the tentacles on its left arm stretched across the shaft to face them, placing both its feet firmly on the wall and pushing itself from the wall, swinging across the shaft towards the doors, bracing itself for the impact-

-and slammed into the doors with a massive crash that sounded like a log striking a gong, the metal doors exploding of their rails and flying towards the guards, knocking some of them of their feet and the others backed away from the doors as the scientists behind them began screaming in fright and terror at what was coming, although Dubois was wearing a bright ecstatic grin from where he stood by one of the cars parked in the lot, his face alight with eager anticipation.

The Nemesis itself, having swung itself through the doors, uncurling its tentacles from the strut outside, rolled across the floor and landed in a crouch in front of all the guards who hastily got up from their positions on the floor after being hit by the doors, raising their weapons at the monster as it slowly rose to its feet, tentacles swaying about its left arm menacingly, Lee's dried blood seeming to give it an unearthly sheen in the red emergency lights that flashed on the roof, glaring at them with dark malice in its dead eyes, its teeth forming either a sadistic grin or a vicious snarl from its exposed muscular lips.

"FIRE!!! FIRE!!!" the officers bellowed in unison, gesturing wildly at the Nemesis standing before them.

The guards all opened fire at once on the Nemesis, several machine guns and pistols letting loose a hail of bullets at the monster, the rounds triking the Nemesis repeatedly in the chest, causing dark purple blood to flow from the holes in its chest down the front of its body, but it paid no attention to the gunfire, the bullets hardly fazing it at all and the wounds causing it hardly any pain as the NE-T Virus inside its body regenerated the wounds with relative ease, instead focusing its attention on the open shutter that lay at the top of the entrance ramp and the bright moonlight that shone through it, the smell of fresh air alluring to its nostrils, its eyes fixed on the beautiful sight of the night-time sky and the vast countryside beyond, its escape just in sight.

It turned towards the shutters and began to advance slowly towards it, the guards continuing their suppressing fire on the Nemesis until their weapons gave off the dry empty click that indicated it was empty and needed to be reloaded, when suddenly it took for the ramp at a full-out charge, its huge legs carrying it across the parking lot in great strides and at a fast speed, dashing up the ramp and through the shutters in a few seconds, the gunfire from the guards doing very little to slow it down.

As soon as the Nemesis had made it through the doors, one of the officers pulled out the radio on his belt and changed the frequency to contact the guard station at the fence, the rest of the officers shouting orders at the guards standing around the parking lot and hurrying outside after the Nemesis with all the men in tow, the scientists all letting out sighs of relief that the Nemesis had left, although they were still very much afraid of what could happen if it, all of them knowing full well what it was capable and how deadly the virus flowing through its body was if so much as a drop were to escape.

"Guys!! The Nemesis is heading your way!! Don't let it get past the gates!!" he barked down the radio harshly.

The guards in the station had been on alert before the radio message even came through, the entire team guards ready ever since they heard the alarm sound off at the outpost and the red emergency had started winking in the guard box, all of them having gathered around the large gate along the road to prevent anything from leaving or entering, each of them ducked behind sandbags that had been hastily erected into a make-shift defensive wall and one of them having mounted the heavy-machine gun inside the guard box that faced the outpost; but when they heard the message come through, they all snapped at the ready, fingers on triggers, senses alert for any sign of the monster and the spotlights above the gate were snapped on, shining down on the road in front of it.

After a few seconds of suspenseful waiting, all of them feeling very much on edge and scared, their hands clenched tightly on their weapons, cold sweat breaking out on their foreheads despite it being a warm spring evening, some of them biting their lower lips nervously, one of them noticed something moving on the horizon towards their position and pulled out a pair of binoculars, looking through them at the object as it came closer, gasping in shock when he recognized what it was.

"Target's approaching fast!! Open fire!!" he ordered sharply with a sense of urgency, raising his weapon at the monster and opening fire.

The Nemesis continued on its charge down the road, ignoring the bullets that punched through the muscle of its back from the gunfire behind it as the guards all hurried outside and opened fire on the BOW that stormed along the road, its chest rising and expanding with intakes of breath comfortably despite the wounds in its chest, its limbs neither feeling the aches of pain nor the weight of fatigue upon them as it ran down the dark concrete trail through the barren compound, the moonlight providing the only source of illumination for it to see where it was going, tentacles trailing behind it like a child running with a piece of string in hand and eyes fixed straight ahead, on the sight of freedom beyond the bright gate at the end of the road.

As it came closer to the gate, its eyelids narrowed sharply over its milky-white eyes to protect them from the harsh glare of the spotlights as it continued sprinting along the road, ignoring the gunfire that opened in front from behind the sandbags, the bullets barely slowing down the momentum and speed of its strides, merely opening up more small wounds that bled very little onto its already stained chest; however, when it came close enough to the guard box for the guard inside to open fire with the heavy machine gun emplacement, the Nemesis staggered slightly in its run at the powerful punch from the bullets that impacted on its chest, the strength of the turret's firepower nearly knocking it off its feet, yet the creature didn't stop running, instead regaining its balance and continuing the charge, trying to ignore the strength of the gunfire from the turret and the massive wounds it opened up in its body as it approached the gate. The guards at the gate silently cheered to themselves, feeling that they were weakening the Nemesis when they saw it stagger on its feet from the turret's powerful gunfire, watching as the large SAW bullets punched larger holes in its chest and side, pieces of flesh flying off from impact and purple blood splattering along the road-

-but those feelings of success were severely cut short when they watched in stunned amazement as the Nemesis leaped high into the air, easily topped the gate and landed in a crouch on the other side, its short breaths coming out as deep growls in its throat, blood running down its back, waist, legs and chest in rivets, covering near enough its entire lower body in purple, then slowly rise to its feet and run off down the road, disappearing into the shadows into the nearby woodland beyond.

All of the guards by the gate slowly lowered their weapons and stared blankly at the woods on the other side of the gate, feeling angry and very much frightened at their failure to stop the Nemesis Mark I, realizing that they were in for a drop in chest-deep shit when the higher-ups of Umbrella found out that they had failed to capture a Tyrant Class BOW after it broke out of containment, that it had managed to escape from the compound and was on a rampage in the French countryside, somewhere out in the forest and mountains outside the large gate; and with that came the risk that it might probably find either a camp of local hikers somewhere in the woodland or that it would reach Christina Henri's estate down at the mountain base or even, God forbid should that happen for them, make it to Paris that was only a few miles across the wilderness, allowing it to spread the deadly virus flowing through its veins to infect other organisms and begin a full-blown outbreak in the city. And if that were to happen, no one would be safe.

One of the guards turned away from the gate and hurried over to the guard box as the other guards began cursing aloud at what had happened, some of them even throwing their weapons down on the ground and shouting out profanities at the situation, others whimpering and shivering in fright at the thought of what would either happen out there with the Nemesis or with them for their failure, stepping through the doorway and along the small to the semi-circle chamber that housed the turret, turning on the radio that sat on a desk beside the door and leaning close to the microphone once someone answered.

"Guys, we have a problem. The Nemesis has gotten past the gate and is somewhere in the woods, probably heading deeper into them by the minute. We managed to wound it quite a bit and it seems to be suffering a little from blood loss, but...I don't know how long we have before it finds someone out there," he announced on the radio, his tone of voice very grim.

Before anyone on the other side could answer back, a car engine sputtered to life inside the parking lot, the loud whir of the engine echoing in the vast chamber, its headlights snapping on over the dull red emergency lights that continued to flash, blinding some of the guards with its brightness, and the sound of screeching tires shrieked in the chamber as a car sped out of its parking space, skidded around the corner to avoid one of the support beams and soared for the ramp, the guards and scientists scarcely avoiding it as it drove past, some of them managing to get a look inside the windows before it mounted the ramp and leaped through the doorway.

"Dr Dubois!!" one of the scientists called out when he noticed who was driving the car. "Where are you going!?!"

But Dubois couldn't hear them, what with the sound of the roaring engine magnified inside the car and all of the windows shut tight, his attention focused on driving the car along the road after the Nemesis, the small vehicle leaping a few feet into the air and crashing down on the concrete with a loud crash, sparks flying out from beneath the bumpers, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his foot pressed down on the gas pedal, occasionally snapping off to apply the brakes when needed, such as when he reached the corner in the road that led around the outpost. After he rounded the corner, he shoved his foot down on the gas and the car charged down the road towards the gate, reaching a speed of nearly 100mph, making no indication of stopping as it rammed through the mesh gate at full speed, the guards at the fence jumping in surprise as the car burst through the gate and sped into the woods, following the Nemesis' trail, the guards watching the vehicles drive through the trees, its headlights providing the only trace of its journey until it turned a corner on the road and they could no longer see the lights, the sound of the car's engine slowly fading away into silence and all that could be heard was the soft wind howling in the night.

The guards at the gate stared after Dubois' retreating for a few more minutes even after they couldn't see him, briefly wondering why he would charge off into the woods after the Nemesis Mark I when it knew full well what that thing was capable of doing, having witnessed its abilities during its escape from the laboratories and the compound, without any support from trained personnel or a weapon to protect himself with, but they soon snapped their attention from the topic when the radio inside the guard box began emitting a high-pitched whistling noise, indicating a call was coming through.

The guard who had been manning the heavy machine gun inside the bunker, watching the Nemesis' and Dubois' escape by leaning out of the small window, leaned back inside and walked over to the radio, flipping on the speakers and leaning towards the microphone. "Yeah?" he answered.

"Where's Dubois? What happened to him?" someone demanded on the other end.

"He just rammed his way through the gate and went after the Nemesis into the woods. We lost sight of him a few seconds ago," he answered.

"Alright," the man stated after taking a brief pause to think over the situation and what they had to do now. "We'll have to start the clean-up of the laboratories downstairs in order to make sure that there hasn't been a leak or any damage to the research. In the meantime, we best contact the director and inform her of what's happened here, so she can get the proper people to deal with this kind of thing." The man on the other end emitted a deep sigh, the emotion in it hard to catch on the radio. "She's going to be pissed."

The guard merely shivered in response and disconnected the radio, trying his hardest not to think about how furious Director Henri would be once she found out that they had let the Nemesis escaped as he walked outside to convey the orders he had received to the others whilst the guards and scientists back at outpost began to head down into the laboratories to clean up the mess that had been made by the Nemesis' escape, check that none of the research had been damaged during the emergency system's activation and that all of the BOWs were still safely stored away in their stasis tube because the last thing wanted was more trouble from another escaped BOW.

Although, they all knew that since the Nemesis had managed to escape the compound and was on a rampage through the surrounding wilderness, they were already in deep enough trouble as it is; in more ways than one...

Inside the large and extravagant mansion that served as both Umbrella's European Branch HQ and the estate of Branch Director Christina Henri, barely any signs of activity could be seen or heard throughout the large estate, the entire building enveloping into a complete and utter silence that carried throughout the whole of the estate, all of the staff and the owner herself having retired to their rooms to sleep for the evening, with the exception of the few guards that were ordered on the dreaded late-shift period by the Head of Security, Christina's butler and bodyguard Alfonse, most of whom were patrolling around the two vast courtyards of her estate, keeping a stern eye out for anyone who tried to sneak over the walls and gates of the estate, their weapons fully-loaded and flashlights shining around all of the shadowed corners that the bright lamps around the courtyard couldn't reach. Others were stationed around the maze of corridors to patrol along every part of both floors of the mansion and watch each of the many entrances that were placed around the mansion, checking all of them for signs of a break-in and that they were all thoroughly locked for the night, occasionally glancing out of the windows at the scenery outside for anything that indicated an intruder or peeking inside each of the rooms for anyone hiding in them, shining their flashlights around the rooms and corridors to inspect them all before carrying on their patrol. And, as per their orders, one of the guards was ordered to man the main security console inside the surveillance room in the basement, monitoring all of the cameras and security systems in the entire estate for signs of an intrusion, and to pass out orders to the other guards via the radio clipped to his waist, all the time trying to keep himself awake from the boredom and exhaustion he felt.

However, the guards weren't the only signs of life in the mansion because, in one of the large rooms on the second floor, a woman stirred in her sleep at the sound of a phone ringing loudly near her side, gazing up drearily at the small device that was causing all of the noise in the quiet atmosphere of the evening and disturbing her rest.

Christina let out a small groan in annoyance at the sound of the ringing phone in her bedroom, glaring at the appliance for a few seconds before turning over under the covers of her bed to go back to the peaceful dreamless sleep she was had been enjoying, hoping that the person calling her would give up and stop trying to wake her up, allowing to go back to some well-needed rest after all of the work that she had to do in both Umbrella's bureaucratic procedures and the political demands of her position in the French Senate; the phone continued to ring for a few more seconds, its high-pitched tone practically screeching inside the silent room, Christina growing more annoyed with it by the minute as she lay down under the covers, her eyes shut tight in an attempt to block out the noise, but soon it abruptly stopped ringing and the room fell back into silence, Christina herself feeling a small sense of satisfaction and relief that at the blissful silence that came back to her room, her mind already lulling her back into slumber.

But the person trying to call her persisted further, her phone ringing again in its receiver that stood on the cabinet beside her bed, the constant repetition of the high-pitched tone penetrating the calm silence again, causing her to grow angrier and more irritated at the person calling her, so she slowly opened her heavy eyes and sat up on her bed, reaching over to switch on the bed lamp that stood next to phone on the cabinet, her eyes narrowing slightly to protect her retinas from the bright glare of the light as the bulb flashed on with a soft click, and then picked up the small device still ringing in its receiver, placing it to her ear as she lay her tired head back down on the soft pillow, hoping that whatever the person had to say to her was important. For their sake.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked wearily, her voice sounding more tired and exhausted than she desired it to be.

"Sorry to wake you, Director," the man replied, his crisp tone immediately identifying him as a soldier. "This is the Head Security Chief at the 6th European BOW Research Laboratory. I have an urgent matter that I need to speak with you about."

Christina rubbed her eyes with the back of her free hand and sighed in exasperation. "This had better be important, soldier," she stated sternly, allowing some of her irritation to creep into her tone.

"It is, ma'am." There was a pause in the conversation, in which she heard the man draw in a deep breath to compose himself and let it out before responding, "There's been an incident."

Christina's heart skipped several beats and she immediately snapped fully awake, her anger and drowsiness having vanished at the man's words, sitting herself firmly upright in her bed, pressing the phone closer to her ear. "How bad is it?" she demanded hastily, making no attempt to hide her concern at the situation.

"Pretty bad, Director. It's the Nemesis Mark I. It has escaped from the compound and into the countryside," he answered, his voice wavering slightly in fear.

Christina let out a small gasp of shock as her mind was stunned into absolute horror at what she had just been told, her eyes going as wide as saucers, her blood draining from her face, leaving it as pale as death, and her hands going numb in fright, gripping the phone tighter in one hand and the other clasped over the place in her nightgown where her heart was, the realization of how grave the situation was hitting her hard like a slap to the face; the Nemesis Mark I, one of Umbrella Europe's greatest accomplishments with the NE-Alpha parasites and the corporation's Tyrant BOW series, had escaped from captivity and was now somewhere in the countryside outside the laboratories near her estate on a rampage, doing God knows what and anything that she could make an educated guess to, due to what she knew of it and how dangerous it truly was.

_This is disastrous!! How could the Nemesis have escaped!?! It should have been thoroughly sedated and stored away safely!! How could those idiots have let it escape!?!_

Christina felt her fear subside inside her, slowly being overpowered and erased by the rage that soared through her like a dark flood, her teeth tightly clenched and lips twisted into a snarl, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her grip harder on the phone, the plastic straining and threatening to break under her iron grip, the blood rushing back to her face to make her cheeks flush bright red in anger and her eyes narrow sharply in frustration at how incompetent her employees were. All each and every one of them had to do was for the scientists to keep the Nemesis regularly sedated and sealed away inside a stasis tank in the BOW laboratories on Level 4 of the complex, occasionally check up on it to make sure it didn't drown whilst sleeping inside the tube, that the sedatives didn't wear off and it woke up, and that all of the equipment monitoring it was still functioning properly whilst the security kept a close eye on it for any signs of trouble that could be resolved by calling for Dubois or members of his research team, so that it could remain alive long enough for her to show to Spencer and the board during their next meeting in order for them to discuss over the entire project in general in regards to development and production, to test how effective it was as a BOW, whether it could understand orders from the corporation and analyze its combat abilities in a battle situation against other BOWs, to determine whether or not it could be used as an effective BOW.

But instead, those utter Neanderthals working down on the complex couldn't even follow such simple orders as that and had failed in keeping the Nemesis properly sedated, allowing it to wake up from its slumber, break free of the tank and somehow escape the compound into the wilderness beyond, despite the large amount of guards stationed at the outpost and the large amount of weapons that had been assigned to the outpost's armory, since nearly most of the guards stationed there were members of the ALAT Detachment for Special Operations.

Although, judging by how well she had seen its predecessors in the Tyrant series fare in battle situations with BOWs and having watched over the Nemesis Mark I's development from the start, she didn't really find it that surprising for the Nemesis to have overcome all of the guards using what abilities it had to offer since none of them had any clue or knowledge on how the Nemesis functioned as a BOW, except for Dubois and his team that had created both the parasite that was the foundations of the Nemesis project and the Nemesis Mark I itself, and Christina herself, who had been in charge supervising over the entire project and had memorized every key detail that revolved around the project, which Dubois and his team provided her within their regular reports on the BOW over the past few months.

But, despite how much of an understanding she had towards their incompetence in doing their jobs to keep the Nemesis secure or their inability to stop the it from escaping, that did very little to swathe her rage towards them, her anger at their failure in their duties and the inevitable damage they would cause to the corporation for letting such a valuable BOW escape into the wilderness, where there was the grave chance that it would either cause an outbreak of the T-Virus strain in its body or get seen by the public and destroyed, both of which could not happen in any sense whatsoever, since the discovery of such a monster would notably bring down the public's eye on the area and, even though a lot of the Senate members and key figures in the French political stage were under their influence, the government would immediately clamp down on their activities, resulting in the corporation's destruction and their executions as criminals in every law imaginable.

Not to mention that the project had only succeeded in creating the Nemesis Mark I a few months ago from all of the research on both the Tyrant BOW series and the NE-Alpha parasites, after all of the long years that they had all spent slaving away on failed experiments and continuous demands that had almost crippled their entire research endeavors to find the results that had been needed to start the project, having to push through obstacle after problem after delay to obtain the answers that would be suitable to Spencer's standards, and the amount of money and technology they had to put in the budget to create, and that wasn't just including the already large sums of their bank accounts' numbers that they had subtracted into funding all of the projects that had been in development over the past few years and the new ones that had just been permitted by the board to begin production.

_One of our most powerful BOWs has escaped into the outside environment where any person can find it and get killed by it; and if someone finds it, the UN and the French Government are soon going to be knocking on our doors demanding answers! And I seriously doubt they will help clear this up when the public start screaming for answers to a monster stalking around in the woods, killing off their friends and families. Those idiots have no idea of the amount of damage that will be caused to the corporation because of their failure!!_

"Hello? Director Henri? Are you still there, ma'am?" the Security Chief asked, his garbled voice on the phone snapping her out of her thoughts and bringing her back to the current situation.

She took a few deep breaths to calm down and control her temper, to allow her mind to focus on the situation and think more clearly on what should be done, feeling the heat in her cheeks fade from her face and her grip loosen on the phone, then held the phone back to her ear. "Yes, I am here," she replied, her voice cool and calm as she spoke, despite how furious she actually felt. She then took another deep breath to compose herself, to calm down her anger further and keep her mind focused on the situation at hand, then asked as calmly as she could, "When did this happen?"

"About a quarter of an hour ago," the Head Security Chief replied curtly over the phone.

Christina let out one of the many deep breaths that she had unknowingly been holding in, feeling a small sense of relief spread throughout her body and mind, soothing down the raging flames of her fury and clearing her mind to allow her some measure of peace for her to think. If the Security Chief's time-keeping was reliable in its accuracy and that the Nemesis had only recently escaped from the compound, that meant it couldn't have gotten very far away from the laboratory in such a short amount of time, despite how much stamina the virus and parasite inside its body, and was probably still isolated somewhere in the vast wilderness, which allowed them a chance to solve the situation quickly without any public knowledge or interference becoming involved, since the nearest human population to the laboratory complex was either her estate at the base of the mountains or the capital city of Paris at least 15-20 miles away.

But that still didn't mean that they could all simply relax and expect the situation to resolve itself for them, because, even if the Nemesis was safely hidden away from any public eyes and wouldn't draw any attention to itself, the fact of the matter is that there were many other grim possibilities that could occur from the situation, such as the variation of the T-Virus flowing inside its body spreading throughout the woodland around it and infecting other animals in the forest, causing a biohazard outbreak that could spread to her estate or even Pairs itself, since the virus was capable of infecting anything and everything in the entire animal kingdom, and it could be spread further by using the many different properties of the animals themselves. Besides, the fact remains that with every fleeting second that passed by, the Nemesis was getting further and further away from them, traveling deeper into the forest where it could hide anywhere from them and find any poor unlikely soul who happened to wander into its path.

"Has there been any damage to the laboratories in its escape?" she asked sternly, focusing her attention back onto the conversation she was having with the Security Chief, deciding it best to acquire all the information she could about the problem so that she could plan a method to contain the incident, all the while silently praying to whoever was listening that nothing else had gone wrong.

"Not that much, ma'am. Just some circuitry that needs to be replaced in the BOW storage lab, since most of them were burnt out by the stasis fluid that leaked from the tank that the Nemesis was stored in after it broke out, the elevator shafts have been slightly damaged from its scale up the shafts, the elevator doors in the parking lot were mashed up and the main gate out into the woods has been destroyed, so we'll need some replacements for them. However, there has been no damage to the major systems, all of the research is still safely stored away and the BOWs are still in stasis, their life-support systems are still functioning properly and they're still sedated fully, so there's no danger of any more break-outs," he answered, the tone of his voice sounding very calm over the phone, obviously relieved that all the BOWs were still stored away safely. However, the light mood in his voice soon changed as he emitted a deep melancholy sigh. "But, we lost one of our guards in the escape. Poor bastard had been assigned to watch over the BOW storage laboratories on the late-shift and had got in the Nemesis Mark I's way when it broke free from the tank."

Christina sighed deeply in relief, immensely glad that there hadn't been any more break-outs down in the labs and that all of the research stored there was safe. If there was only one escaped BOW running around in the wilderness outside the compound, that would make it easier to isolate, contain and resolve the incident quicker without the public knowing, since she could easily have the entire area sealed off from by the French military through her position in the French government, explaining to the other Senators that she had the area sealed to prevent people from getting into the immediate area whilst they disposed of some potentially dangerous weapons and explosives in the compound (which was the main reason that she gave to the Senate for allowing the outpost to be built there), using Umbrella's influence if necessary to discourage any opposition to her motions, and then send in the USF to hunt down the Nemesis and destroy it before it managed to leave the immediate area.

With all of the research still stored away back at the laboratories, the corporation would be able to develop another Nemesis BOW from all of the data recorded and stored in the Red Queen's data archives, the other parasites that were still in stasis down in the laboratories and the new Tyrant model currently being mass-produced on Sheena Island, so there was no need to worry about having to bring back the Nemesis alive. Additionally, since she had been planning to show the Nemesis Mark I to Spencer and the board in their next meeting for them all to discuss over the entire project, to review all of the research data and how the Nemesis was developed, and to determine if it had enough intelligence to follow any orders given to it and to test its effectiveness in a battle situation by having it fight against other BOWs to provide them with some combat data to evaluate its performance, they would now be able to obtain some combat data from an actual real-life combat situation with highly-trained special force soldiers and cover the entire incident in the process before it got out of control, effectively enabling them to 'kill two birds with one stone' or say the phrase went. As for the guard, they could just simply return his body to his family, offer up their condolences and respects to his passing, provide him an adequate funeral service, pay his family condolences for his death or to keep them quiet if they start asking questions, since he was of little importance to the corporation and the situation at hand.

_Lets not get carried away too far. This incident is still a potentially dangerous outcome for the corporation and the public in general, since there is still the chance that the virus could leak._

"Have you managed to locate its trail into the forest?" she asked sternly as she swung her legs over the side of her bed, slid her feet into a pair of slippers sitting beside the cabinet and stood up, walking briskly over to the windows and opening the curtains slightly for her to look outside, staring out at the courtyards of her estate and the forest just outside the walls, wondering briefly in her mind where the Nemesis was at that particular moment in time and what it was doing in hiding amongst the vast natural landscape that stretched as far as she could see in the combined light of the moon and stars in the clear evening sky.

The Head Security Chief began speaking in a hushed tone towards someone else, probably another guard by his side, Christina hardly making out anything over the phone, but she could tell by the tone of his voice that the man was becoming angry at whoever he was talking to, whispering harshly at him for a few seconds before replying to her. "Yes, we have ma'am. The blood trail that it left behind from its escape helped us track it into somewhere in the north-east section of the forest, near the base of the mountain range nearby. However, the trail dried up before we could follow it further and the patrols I have sent out to look for it haven't found anything yet; they're still out there at the mountain base searching for any signs of where it's gone, but no luck so far."

Christina though her heart actually stopped beating inside her chest as her mind registered what he had just said, the words causing a hard lump to form in the pit of her stomach and her hopes to come crashing down to sub-zero, her fear once again reaching out and grasping her mind tightly in its thick clammy tendrils, a cold sweat now beginning to break out on her forehead.

"You...You wounded it?" she asked in a voice that sounded very frightened and weak to her ears, like a little girl who was asking her parents to reassure that the boogey-man wasn't lurking under her bed.

"We did, ma'am, but only by sheer luck. When it had made it to the ground floor through the elevator shafts, we had attempted to subdue it by shooting out all of its key points on the body, such as the joints in its skeleton and its internal organs, but our 9mm and .34inch rounds from our weapons did hardly any damage, so we couldn't manage to stop it from escaping the parking lot. Although, when it got to the gate, we had wounded the Nemesis quite badly with the machine gun turret in the guard box; we had tore out a chunk of its side and it had lost a lot of blood, but it still managed to leap over the gate and run into the woods. We tried to follow it by using the trail of blood it left, but it didn't last long for us to follow it," the man explained clearly, obviously having revised what to say to her very well, but she paid no heed to this.

Just when she thought that the situation couldn't get any worse for them, that there was still a chance that the whole matter could be resolved before it escalated out of her control, it did. If the Nemesis had been wounded and had bled out a considerable amount of its bodily fluids into the surrounding environment, there was now an even greater chance that the possibility of a T-Outbreak could become true because, as her position in Umbrella's hierarchy demanded and to ensure that she was on top of everything, she had fully examined every piece of information and data concerning the T-Virus from the start of the project to where they were now, so she knew that the T-Virus infected other beings either by injection, using the atmosphere as a vector or by the transmission of infected fluids into other beings, such as blood, sweat and saliva; and as the NE-T Virus inside its body was a different strain of the T-Virus itself, that probability of a spreading infection was significantly increased since any animal could simply ingest the infection by sampling the spilled blood left behind by the Nemesis in its escape.

In addition, there was the point that the T-Virus inside the NE-T strain could spread throughout the wilderness via its airborne abilities and infect other lifeforms in the immediate area surrounding it, but no one really knew how the NE-T Virus actually infected other beings since it had originally been created as an ulterior method to resolving all of the problems that had impeded the Tyrant Project by using to create the NE-Alpha parasites from scratch in order to counter-act the necrotic effects of the T-Virus in the brains of Tyrant hosts, thus there was very little information or research data available on the NE-T strains methods of infection and nobody had any prior knowledge as to how the virus spread from host to host since all of their endeavors on the strain had been to creating the parasites and solving the delays in producing the Tyrant series, except for maybe-

Suddenly, a thought flashed into Christina's mind, one that she should have thought of when she had been informed of the incident and immediately acted upon once she had known what had happened, giving herself a mental slap for failing to realize it in the first place. Since she was dealing with a renegade Nemesis BOW and the possibilities of an outbreak being caused by the viral strain that had created both it and the parasite manifesting inside its body, who better to ask for any information on containing the problem than the man who had been leading all of the research into the project and was the official creator of every success in the project himself

"Get Dubois on the line," she demanded sharply over the phone.

"I'm sorry, Director?" the man asked, sounding momentarily perplexed.

"I want to speak Dubois immediately. Get him on the line now!!" she ordered harshly, her voice rising in volume.

The Security Chief on the other end let out a deep sigh and Christina immediately began to regret making that order, an instinctual feeling growing inside her that she wasn't going to like the answer coming to her, that it would evidently do more harm than good for the situation.

"Dubois isn't here, ma'am. He's gone," the man replied calmly.

Christina spun around to look back at her room, her eyes narrowed sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Dubois has left the compound, ma'am. He's taken his car and sped off into the woods to chase the Nemesis, although God knows why he would do that without any protection or support, especially after everything that has happened here and the fact that he should know everything about how dangerous the Nemesis can be, since it is his creation. We did attempt to search for him by following the road he had taken, but we lost his trail in the same area that we had tracked the Nemesis to; apparently, he has left the road and is currently driving through the woods to look for it. We had thought to continue the search through the woods by following the tire treads he had left behind but we had decided it best to contact you first and receive new orders," the man explained.

Christina walked over to her desk positioned on the right hand side of the window and sat herself down in the small chair in front of it, tapping her fingernails rhythmically on the wooden top as her mind focused on what she had just heard, her eyes narrowing sharply into slits and her mouth forming a tight small line on her pale face. Although she did feel a little surprised at hearing about Dubois' brash actions and how much of a risk he was taking at such a desperate move, she knew that she had already seen this coming, had noticed the signs that he was capable of doing something like that from all of their meetings together and she had kept her suspicions about him over the past few years that he had been working on the Nemesis Project. And it seemed, as usual, her instincts and technique at reading people had once again served her well.

_It appears Dubois wasn't really smart enough to remember who is holding the true power over him and his work._

When Dubois had first shown her the NE-Alpha parasites three years ago after the project had been a success, he had been overwhelmed with an immense feeling of pride and accomplishment at what he had managed to create, which she couldn't blame him for since what he had created would be of great importance to not only the corporation's BOW research(and it had been, what with the development of the Nemesis BOW series in the Mark I, and the creation of the combined formula with the NE-Alpha's brain chemical and the Tyrant host hormone that helped to resolve the Tyrant Project delays), but would also help her ever-growing advancement and ambition to become Lord Spencer's right-hand woman in Umbrella's hierarchy, in order for her to finally cast of the degrading role as a mere pawn and become one of the key players in the world.

However the reasons she had kept Dubois under great suspicion and scrutiny over the last three years was because, from what she could determine by his actions and expressions at the time, Dubois had also formed an attachment to his work, since he had been gazing at the parasites floating in the stasis tank with some twisted form of joy and affection, his voice growing soft and dragging out in the noisy activity of the labs, his eyes fixed onto the glass and watching the small organisms swim about the tank in awestruck wonder, staring at them with some form of admiration for several minutes before she attracted his attention away from them, ignoring everything else around him for those split seconds.

And, from all of the times she had seen him working in the laboratories on the Nemesis Project or the numerous times that she had requested to meet with him to discuss over the progress of his work, she could tell that the attachment between himself and his creations had been growing stronger over time, since apparently he had been spending nearly 23 hours a day over the past years working down in the laboratories on the project, slaving away throughout the whole day and most of the evening on something that he deemed relevant to his work, only rarely leaving the laboratories for sleep or food, and he had started to become harshly tempered and easily irritated with the others, Christina having had read through many complaints about the man from the rest of the staff. Additionally, it had also begun to physically manifest itself on Dubois' body for her to clearly see how bad it was, his eyes having developed deep circles of sleep and fatigue under their lower eyelids, the whites of his eyes turning bloodshot and bright red, his body thin and frail from extreme weight-loss, his hair messy and unkempt, his clothes deeply wrinkled and creased as if he didn't change them at all over the years he had been working on the Nemesis, and the corner of his mouth growing a slight facial tic that constantly twitched whenever he was irritated or impatient although Dubois himself had never shown any sign that he had noticed it.

Thus, it came of very little surprise to her that Dubois was more than willing to chase after the Nemesis through the woods, even though he knew how deadly the BOW could be and had already witnessed what it was capable of doing from its escape, since she knew that all researchers who grew attached to their work, like Dubois, would eventually get it into their heads that the work solely belonged to them and only them, and that they had the power to withhold their work from the corporation and leave whenever they wanted to, meaning that their inevitable replacement would soon be an issue under debate. However, she could care less about Dubois in the current situation in regards to whether he lived or died on his search for the Nemesis, since there were more than enough eager candidates already out there begging for her permission to be assigned to work on something full of potential and promise as the Nemesis Project, all of them currently awaiting assignments back at the numerous training facilities that were established all over Europe. The more important factor of the situation was for them to find the Nemesis Mark I and either capture it or destroy it before it caused an outbreak or was spotted by the general masses.

And, begrudgingly enough and as much as she hated to accept it, she knew that she would have to call in McVarian's USF to resolve the situation.

"Director? Are you still there?" the man asked timidly over the phone.

Christina didn't reply to the question and continued to stare blankly at her reflection in the mirror on her desk, her mind thinking over all of the information given to her and how to act upon the situation to resolve all of the problems, to keep the entire incident under wraps and take the necessary preventative methods to stop any possible leakage of the existence of their BOW research.

_Right now, we'd best clean up all the visible trace of the Nemesis out in the woods and the mess that has been left in the compound from its escape, commence repairs of all the damage and had best secure the entire area before the Nemesis can escape. As for me, I had best contact the Red Queen and have her inform the USF to deploy some squads here to rectify the situation._

"I'm here," she replied curtly. Then, after clearing her throat and straightening her posture in her chair, she asked, "Have all of the patrols returned?"

"Yes, ma'am. All of them are here back at the compound."

"Good. Now, I want all of you and the rest of the staff to report to decontamination immediately and get yourself cleaned up in case any risk of infection. Once you have all passed through the decontamination process, have all the security clean up all of the mess that has been made by the Nemesis in its escape; bloodstains, bodies, and bullets must all be removed and cleaned up in order to keep the facility's cover secure. Then, I want all of you to pull double-shifts in and outside of the complex until the situation is resolved; I don't want to risk another break-out from the BOWs or people getting access to the facility with all of the damages around it. In the meantime, have all of the maintenance staff work around the clock to repair the damages and all of the research to keep a THOROUGH check all of the stasis systems down on Level 4. I want to ensure that there will not the slightest chance that something like this happens again and I would like for them to gather up all of the research on the Nemesis for me at once," she ordered sharply.

"Yes, ma'am! Right away!" the Security Chief replied briskly before the phone line clicked shut and the blank dial tone echoed into her ear, indicating that he had disconnected the line.

Pressing the button to turn off the phone on her end, Christina placed it back down on the desk and reached underneath her desk for the large black bag seated against it, pulling it out and placing down next to her the phone, undoing the zip with a soft whir along the top and taking out the small laptop inside, popping open the lid and turning it onto the corporation's computer network, waiting patiently for the screen to load up the Red Queen's server so she could give the message for the USF support that she needed, although she dreaded having to ask for their help at all as they were under the direction of McVarian's American Division.

Ever since Christina had joined the Umbrella corporation back in 1968, a few months after the corporation had been founded and was announced publicly to the world, she had to admit that she was very much impressed with how far Umbrella's influence had managed to spread in just a few standard months after it came to life, due to the major successes that it had made in establishing the large number of medical and drug production facilities across the four continents of the planet, that it had already risen to one of the position as one of the biggest and most influential pharmaceutical companies in the business community, and that it was widely revered and respected by towns, cities, governments and the general public in every part of the Earth. And the fact that she herself had been granted one of the most highest ranking positions in the corporation as a member of the Executive Board, bestowing upon her the power and authority to control the European Division placed in her lap for her to monitor was one of the greatest opportunities she had ever been given in her life, made her held neither regret nor contempt towards accepting Spencer's offer of employment in Umbrella.

However, despite how much prestige that Umbrella had gained in the business community and the sheer volume of power that Spencer had given to her upon her emplacement in the corporation's hierarchy, she knew that all of it was utterly useless in the long run because, back when she had been working only as a member of the French Senate, the National Assembly and the French Cabinet, she had always known that all of power she had under her possession was of very little consequence or significance in the many fabrics of the world since there was always someone higher than you, someone with more power than you, someone that you were forced to follow and to answer to in all of your actions, and that had always been true in whatever circumstances there may be; the same applied to the Umbrella corporation itself as, despite the prestigious positions and large influences they held in the world's political stage, everyone on the Board, including Lord Spencer himself, were obligated to follow all of the protocols and declarations passed down onto them by the government, which still made them pretty much the expendable pawns that they were even before the corporation had been created, the very thing that Christina loathed the most and spent her entire life trying to shed away from it.

But when Spencer had revealed what was really happening in the Umbrella corporation, what they were really trying to accomplish, what they had focused their resources and newly allotted positions on producing, when she had seen the T-Virus and the many BOWs spawned from it, she realized that she was gazing at the solution to all of her problems, that she had discovered the very thing that could help her accomplish her greatest ambitions and finally cast aside the role that she had so deeply desired to leave behind her, to be replaced by the one position that she had always aspired for. What she had seen in the corporation's research on the T-Virus was the chance to become one of the key players in the entire world, to become the one to make the rules, to control the pawns, to direct the motions of the politics and laws, to pass down her own will unimpeded upon the public and establish her own power base in society.

Although, as her experience in working the political satire and bureaucratic vestiges in her previous careers had taught her, with every new venture, there was always another obstacle that they needed to traverse if they wished to complete their goals. As Spencer was the man who controlled everything that happened in Umbrella and was the person who held all of the power in the corporation's inner machinations, having been one of the three founding members of the corporation and one of the discoverers of the T-Virus' predecessor, the Mother Virus, everybody knew that they were all to obey his every order without question or complaint, and that if they were to make any advancements to a higher position along the corporation's hierarchy, it would have to be approved by him personally, and they were all aware that in order to do that, they needed to be in good favor with him, either in their abilities to keep the corporation running smoothly or to produce something that would be worthwhile to Umbrella's research. This also applied to the members of the Executive Board, including Christina herself, because, as Spencer was no doubt aware of how much old he was getting and that he wouldn't last forever, he needed to select one member of the board to manage everything he and the corporation owned upon his retirement, and he would only choose the one who presented themselves in a manner that would gain most of his favor. Thus Christina had done everything she could to gain herself and her division more of Spencer's favor, since she knew that with the power to control over the entire corporation's assets upon Spencer's choosing and with the support of the BOWs created by the T-Virus behind her, she would be able to establish herself as one of the key figures of power on the planet.

However, she had been met with very stiff competition over the decades for Spencer's favor, namely in the American Division under the command of Colonel Ronald McVarian, one of Spencer's most trusted colleagues and reliable soldiers; after all, the American division was the most responsible for creating the many advances that had been made into the corporation's biological weaponry development and their military forces, namely the creation of the T-Virus itself, the discovery of the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin Hormone, the establishment of the Umbrella Special Forces Units and the development of the Tyrant BOW series.

Hence why Christina had poured all of her divisional staff's time and energy into conducting the numerous projects that had been suggested to help resolve all of the problems that had began to delay the production of the Tyrant series and bring their research to nearly a grinding halt, since she saw it as her best chance to create something that would both resolve the problems that had been evident in the previous Tyrant models and to surpass McVarian's American Division by gaining more of Spencer's favor at accomplishing his orders. And the reason she had decided to support Dubois' Nemesis Project was because firstly it had been the only one of the many projects started by her division to have succeeded, from all of the research data provided on the NE-Alphas and the Tyrant models that had been developed at the Arklay laboratories, she saw it as the perfect method to preserve enough of the Tyrant hosts' intelligence from the necrotic effects of the T-Virus for it to be able to understand any orders given to it by herself and the rest of the board, whilst at the same time preventing it from exerting any trace of free will that could lead it rebel and break free of their control, although the results of the experiments that had been conducted on the NE-Alpha's ability to merge with other hosts had shown even greater problems for the BOW research than any evidence that it could help resolve the issues that were delaying the Tyrant research, since the parasite's themselves could only merge with a body that could support its original form during the extreme bodily mutations it suffered whilst it preserved its intelligence from the T-Infection. Thus she had been rather apprehensive about showing it to Spencer and the board in the next meeting since, although Spencer had a sufficient amount of scientific knowledge for him to realize how much potential the NE-Alphas had for the BOW research, he was more interested in acquiring results that had matched his incredibly strict standards and that could be produced fast enough for him to make a large profit from it, and if he rejected the Nemesis Project for all of its flaws, it would mean that all of her division's research, and her own plans of gaining the power she desired, would be greatly drawn back several leaps.

_It seems that I had actually been right about the Nemesis Project when I said that it would be of great beneficial promise to the BOW research._

Miraculously enough though, Spencer had given his permission to allow the project to continue, due to the point in the research data that suggested the possibility of combining the BHN Hormone with a certain chemical that the parasites released into the brains of their hosts to help protect the brain cells from the degradation caused by the T-Virus, and ordered that the scientists under her authority were to co-operate together with the newly-constructed Tyrant Production Facilities on Sheena Island to produce a new compound of the hormone that could, as the notes had claimed, preserve more of the Tyrant's intelligence from the T-Virus infection.

Christina had immediately agreed to it and had hastily ordered all of her staff to begin production of the NE-Alpha brain chemical using the Hunter they had in storage, having large quantities of the chemical delivered to the Sheena Island facilities along with copies of the research data for the staff to use, although she had been slightly confused and curious as to why Spencer had requested for her to send one of the parasites to the Arklay laboratories, but she had decided to ignore it for the moment and focus more on the production of the new formula for the Tyrant Project, since she saw this as her biggest chance to earn herself the most respect and favor in Spencer's eye, due to the fact that the new formula could be the answer to solving the problem with the Tyrant's inability to understand orders and that was exactly how Spencer had seen it as well.

And, after several years of failures and delays on the project, the researchers at Sheena Island, using a successful combination of the NE-Alpha's brain chemical and the BHN Hormone on a Tyrant host, had succeeded in producing a superior of Tyrants, one that had the natural abilities of the original Tyrant models, such as the strength, agility, ferocious killing power and the resilience to small arms fire, but lacked any of the major vulnerabilities the others had suffered, namely the exposure of vital parts of the body or the severe damage the T-001 had suffered to its central nervous system, in addition to the point that the Tyrant models could actually pass off as humans, due to the T-Virus having failed to cause any form of necrosis on its body, and it possessed the defining feature that neither T-001 or T-002 had, that it had the ability to interpret and understand orders given to it.

What they had created was the T-103 Tyrant.

When Spencer and the entire board had visited the island to witness a field test of the new T-103 Tyrant, to observe how the Tyrant model fared in battle against other BOW series and how capable it was at understanding orders given to it via the chip installed in its brain, which held a link to the White Queen's Bio-Weapon Protocol Supplement, they had been monumentally impressed with how well it had performed in not only battling the BOWs that had been sent against it, but it had also been able to follow the orders that the White Queen had given it, which were for it attack a specific BOW one at a time (for example; wipe out the BOW that posed the greater threat or eliminate the more low-priority BOWs first or to attack the BOW model specified by the White Queen) and then return to stasis for storage later on, showing nothing but quiet obedience to the orders assigned by the White Queen and complying to all of them with massive effectiveness, showing no evidence that it was either becoming enraged or having to be sedated in order to store it, such as with the T-001 that had to be sedated and rendered unconscious by a Spark Shot attack to its exposed spinal cord. In response to the incredible prowess that the Tyrant showed in the tests, and how well it performed in both following its orders and fighting in the simulation battle, Spencer had immediately pushed for the Sheena Island facility to begin mass-production of the new T-103 Tyrant, demanding that Christina's European Divisional staff continue to supply enough of the NE-Alpha brain chemical to the Sheena Island staff for them to continue producing enough of the combined-hormonal solution to preserve the Tyrant's intelligence, whilst the rest of the corporation's scientific staff members would focus their endeavors onto completing the original projects that had started on resolving the problem with the limited number of Tyrant hosts and the Monitor organization would begin a new search over every known database in the world for any person who matched the genetic criteria to become Tyrant since, although they had managed to uncover a suitable method for the Tyrant Project to create an efficient BOW without the risk of losing its intelligence and its ability to interpret orders, which was one of the major obstacles in their research,they still needed to locate and obtain a sufficient number of people that had the genetic trait to produce the hormone in sufficient quantities for them to hold back the necrotic effects of the T-Virus and to merge with the NE-BChem formula to mutate into the T-103 Tyrant model.

And in the space of two years, the entire Umbrella corporation began to work towards a different goal, one that gave them something worthwhile to discover and to present them with new opportunities, rather than dragging down their production and development in their research to the ground, all of them filled with anew sense of determination and vigor to finally achieve what they had set out to accomplish, that soon rewarded them with the successful manufacture of over 50 T-103 Tyrants in the past year alone, due to the Human Genome Project (which was still under great investment and investigation even today) having announced the new scientific method of DNA cloning, which allowed all scientists to be able to copy specific parts of a genetic code in any organism and implant them into another one, bestowing upon it new abilities or genetic traits that were not included in their original DNA material, thus opening up another method for the corporation to use in solving the issue of the limited number of Tyrant hosts by letting them expand their DNA search into employees under their own corporation's contracts, finding those with the genetic trait to produce the BHN Hormone, take samples from them and copying the samples for the staff at Sheena Island (who were now officially placed in full authority and responsibility over the Tyrant Project) to implant them into other hosts, giving them the ability to produce the hormone, enabling for them to use any person they wanted to become a Tyrant; and, as Spencer was still naturally involved in the activities of the scientific community under the guise of using their knowledge to assist Umbrella's pharmaceutical marketing and development, he had naturally ordered for several of the Monitor Agents stationed secretly throughout Umbrella's global facilities and laboratory complexes to commence their DNA search amongst the other employees (albeit discreetly, so as not to instigate any unrest or rouse any suspicions amongst the employees).

Then, during one of the many meetings that she and Dubois had held between each other to discuss over the progress of the Nemesis Project and how they were to resolve all of the problems surrounding it, Christina had been struck by an epiphany. When she had first read through all of the research data on the Nemesis Project after Dubois had shown her the finished parasites, she had felt rather apprehensive at presenting them to Spencer and the board at the time because, although she was thoroughly impressed the parasites had been developed successfully and were fully capable of manipulating the host's intelligence to a suitable level to understand orders, from what she had read in the results of the experiments that had been conducted on five of the NE-Alphas with a variety of BOWs to test their abilities and determine if they had been developed without trouble, they had uncovered a major flaw in the project's effectiveness, mainly in regards to the fact that the parasites themselves had to be able to merge successfully with the body and genetic structure of the host to protect their fragile bodies from the mutational properties brought onto them by the T-Virus whilst they preserved the host's brain cells from the necrotic effects of the infection in order for them to be able to understand orders, meaning that the parasites needed a strong body that could support their own during their manifestation in the brain, otherwise the parasite's form would suffer severe breakdown due to extreme mitosis in its cells and die out within five minutes, the host following shortly in twenty without the parasite's protection against the degradation to its brain.

However, as she had explained to both Dubois and Spencer when asked about it, her theory was that, since it had been hard to locate a suitable host for the parasites, the current BOWs they had in stock, the Hunters for example, having failed to bond with the NE-Alphas during the experiments, then why not use a T-103 Tyrant as the new host, since a Tyrant's mutated form and impressive physique would be more than enough to handle the parasite's rapid mutations and preserve its form inside its own body, and as they had been unable to use a Tyrant before, due the rarity of a suitable Tyrant host, they would have nothing to lose from testing the theory because they had managed to mass-produce several T-103 models at Sheena Island already.

After giving it great thought and consideration, both of them had agreed to her theory and immediately made the necessary preparations to begin the experiment, Dubois organizing the entire laboratory complex, the staff and all of the equipment they would need to conduct the experiment, and Spencer providing his support in acquiring one of the T-103 Tyrant models from the Sheena facilities and having it sent to Europe as soon as possible. Soon enough, the T-103 had arrived at the complex and Dubois had started the experiment immediately after everything was ready, completing it quickly and safely in under a few hours due to his experience in conducting the same experiment numerous times beforehand.

Thus, the Nemesis Mark I BOW had been born; the perfect entity that comprised of all the years of research and successes in every project that the corporation had embarked on into a single organism, one that could truly be classified as one of the ultimate BOWs alive.

When Dubois had told her that the experiment had been a complete success and had shown the finished Nemesis down in the labs, Christina had felt excited and euphoric at what they had accomplished, her mind alight with joy and great hopes that with the new Nemesis BOW, she would finally be able to gain the respect and favor that she so rightly deserved, for Spencer to realize who was the most suitable to be his right-hand person and would grant her the power to run over the inner-machinations of the corporation with him as a partner, including the opportunity to take over everything once he had left the corporation.

However, once again, a new problem and obstacle had arose in her plans from McVarian's American Division, in the form of the newly discovered Gene-Virus. Apparently, the parasite she had loaned to Spencer for the Arklay laboratories, in exchange to be given the permission to carry on the Nemesis Project in order to produce massive amounts of the brain chemical, had been used in an experiment on the main host stored at the laboratories and from the results of the experiment, along with the years of research that had been conducted on this single organism (whom Christina had no idea was and didn't particularly care if she did) with the T-Virus and Progenitor, Dr William Birkin, the American Division's most dignified and intelligent researcher had succeeded in creating a new viral strain that consisted of every strain of both the Progenitor and T-Virus that had ever been produced by Umbrella, one that merged them all together and mutated into one all-powerful strain that Birkin had christened G-Virus, which Spencer had naturally approved for the project to begin, ending up once again to be locked in the stalemate for Spencer's favor between herself and McVarian.

Although, with the Nemesis Mark I's escape from captivity and that it had managed to hide somewhere in the wilderness around the lab complex where anything could happen, she knew that Spencer would be most displeased and disappointed in her for failing to keep the BOW safely secured, not to mention how angry he would be once he realized how dangerous the thing was and that she was putting the entire corporation at risk for letting it escape, thus her division would lose favor in Spencer eyes and her plans would be further ruined by this incident.

_Lets just hope that we can get this situation under control as soon as possible. And that the USF is fully prepared to go up against a high-class BOW like the Nemesis._

When the Umbrella logo spinning on her computer screen slowly shrank to a tiny size and flowed to the upper-left corner of the screen to come to a gradual stop as the large gray box appeared in the center of the screen, the list of options that she could use scrolling down the side of the box and the metallic voice of the Red Queen greeting her into the server, Christina immediately clicked on the 'Communications Network' option, pulled up the link to the USF training facility on Rockfort Island and hastily typed in the message, her finger gliding across the keys and her cold eyes fixed on the screen.

As soon as she had finished typing the message and closed the server down, she leaned back in her chair and took in a few deep breaths to calm her frayed nerves before she reached over towards the phone, dialing in a new number and placed it next to ear. Hopefully, if everything went to plan and she kept a firm control over the situation, the incident may not get any worse than it already was, that she would be able to maintain her current position in Umbrella's hierarchy and that the USF would be able to hunt down the Nemesis before it got anywhere else, although, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that such things were all just wishful thinking...

April 6th 1991, 11:17 p.m. 20 miles from Paris, over the woodlands outside the Umbrella European Divisional Headquarters.

In the woodlands that surrounded the mountain range outside of Christina Henri's estate, barely any sight or sound of life could be heard throughout the entire plush natural environment, an eerie silence having descended over the area, the shadows that stretched between the trees and bushes shrouding everything in complete darkness, what little light the moon and stars shining above in the night sky casted down onto the woods barely illuminating the vast canopy of leaves, the unnatural silence pierced only by the sounds of birds flying in fright at the sound of a guttural growl from something lurking near the rocky base of the mountains, the wind whistling between the trees and bushes, shaking the branches and leaves slightly in the air, and the sound of a helicopter flying close by.

An Mil Mi-26 transport helicopter flew across the woods towards the number of small clearings that lay beside the mountains, its pilots guiding it on the course laid out to them by the navigator standing between their seats, a map and a compass held in his hands, barking out loud orders to them to be heard over the sounds of the rapid clapping of the rotor blades and echoing thrum of the engine, occasionally glancing down at his instruments to check their bearings and if they were still heading in the right direction. In the cabin behind the cockpit, the engineer and radio/electronics operator busied them in inspecting all of the systems on board the helicopter, ensuring that everything was running smoothly and properly on their flight, whilst the loadmaster strolled around the cabin checking over the large crates that sat at the back of the cabin, popping open the lids to examine the cargo inside and ignoring the curious stares that he noticed from some of the soldiers who sat in the seats behind him near the doors, trying in vain to see what was inside for a few minutes before they went back to staring at the cabin wall blankly whilst the others busied themselves in either readying their weapons or preparing themselves for the mission they would be sent onto once they arrived where they were going, anxiously fiddling with their weapons or clenching their hands tightly onto the straps of their seats.

"Approaching the sector 2C, direction North East, forest clearing and mountain range ahead. Descending to 75 feet above the ground. Prepare for drop-off," the pilot announced through his headset, his voice carrying over the speakers inside the chopper's cabin and through the radios inside the helmets of the forty soldiers strapped firmly in the cabin seats.

The soldiers made no response towards the pilot's announcement that rang through their headphones and over the speakers, each of them remaining as silent as they had been throughout the trip, exchanging no jokes or saying a word to each other, maintaining a sense of professionalism on par with the demands that their rigid training demanded of them, focusing their minds on the imminent mission that they were being sent on and mentally preparing themselves for anything that they might encounter, not a single sound made by any of them except for the slow deep breaths that each of them took through their gas-masks in an attempt to ease the slight tension that was hanging in the air of the cabin.

HUNK was no different from the others, taking deep breaths to clear his mind and help it focus more clearly on the mission that would be assigned to them, easing some of the tension he felt gripping his muscles and senses, sitting calmly in his seat beside the doors, glancing at the other squad members around him, noticing their slightly tense expressions even though their gas-masks hid their faces before he glanced down at his weapons and began the routine inspection of his equipment to ensure that everything was working fine. The last thing he wanted to experience on a mission was for his gun to jam on him in a firefight since, on the usual missions that he had been assigned to during his service in the USF, a single mishap on a mission could kill you or make it much worse than death. His equipment consisted of a FAMAS F1 assault rifle with three clips strapped to the front of his vest and another already loaded in the rifle, each holding a maximum of 25 rounds, a loaded Remington 870 shotgun slung across his back with 24 spare shells in his trouser pockets and a Heckler & Koch Mark 23 Mod 0 placed in the holster strapped across his right thigh, four 12 round magazines hooked on his belt along with three grenades, giving a well-supplied arsenal for any possible situation; all of the weapons were cleaned thoroughly, both inside and outside, and were in good condition, no obstructions visible in either the feeding system or the chamber which left no chance of a weapons jam on the mission, so he was more than ready for the mission.

The engineer immediately stepped over to a small control panel after hearing the pilot's announcement, opening the panel and typing in a few buttons on the keypad to cause the large screen to lower itself from the top of the cabin, the radio operator seating himself by the booth between the cockpit and the cabin, hastily typing on the keyboard in front of his chair on the desk against the wall and flipping switches on the large device behind it, causing the screen to come alive with the white noise and lines of static on screen, and after turning the dials on the device to tune it to the right frequency, the screen soon lit up with the face of Colonel Ronald McVarian. Over the years that HUNK had either met the man face-to-face or listened to his orders over the communications system, he had noticed that the colonel had been aging considerably over the decades of service to the corporation and there was still more signs that he was growing older still, his hair, now completely white and gray, having begun to grow out of the military haircut it was usually in, his eyes grown deep and long wrinkles that spread from the corners across his cheeks, his face turning wizened and deeply creased all over, though it certainly did nothing to weaken the strong determined gaze that glowed behind his eyes or impede his incredible combat abilities, earning him much respect amongst the USF members already enlisted and the recruits that he was still training at Rockfort.

"Okay teams. Here's the situation thus far. Over an hour ago, one of the corporation's most prized BOWs has apparently managed to escape from the laboratory complex just a few miles away in a barren wasteland near the mountain range you are heading to. The security team had attempted to subdue it, but the BOW managed to escape into the woods and they have lost track of it around the sector you are just passing over. As all of you are no doubt aware of, we can't allow this BOW to be seen or to remain loose out in the wilderness for too long, so we need you all to hunt this thing down and destroy it; Director Christina Henri and Lord Spencer themselves have given this mission absolute priority for you all to handle it in any way you deem fit, and they have also expressed that ALL trace of the BOW is to be destroyed. Nothing must be left for a possible infection to spread," he explained, keeping the firm and crisp tone he always maintained when addressing his troops.

"Will there be any support for us on the ground?" Delta-1 asked.

The screen faded away with the picture of Colonel McVarian and changed to a small map of the entire sector, a 8x8 grid map that spanned the entire screen with the dark green lines cris-crossing each other to form large squares that were labeled A-G horizontal and 1-8 vertical, the large mountain range of the wilderness spanning the grid from G-E and 1-8, a dark brown patch that covered the top of the map with the visual representation of the forest covering the rest of the grid in a lighter shade of teal. Around the grid was drawn a dark red circle, the thick crimson lines surrounding the lower forest region and the base of the mountain range with several yellow arrows placed at key points on the red shape, a small pointer highlighting each arrow in turn, causing them to give a brief white flicker before it settled into the center of the grid.

"On orders from Lord Spencer and Colonel Vladimir, several platoons of the UBCS have set up a blockade around the entire region with outposts and camps placed along all known routes, both major and minor, that will lead into the sector. These men will be keeping watch over the perimeter of the area to ensure that no one outside of this operation can sneak inside and that this renegade BOW doesn't attempt to leave the area. In addition, these outposts will be your extraction points after the mission is complete, where you will be taken back to the 6th European Laboratory Complex after this mission for debriefing and they will also be your fall-back points should the worst case scenario occur in this operation."

Hunk understood grimly what that meant, as did the rest of the USF troops who began to murmur amongst for a few minutes, their tone of voices sounding very concerned through their respirators, having witnessed the definition of 'worse case scenario' on many missions with the USF, more specifically in his assignments at Utah, the Amazon and Africa, where he had obtained his code-names and his rather startling reputation of being the only survivor on all of his missions, and that had only been with the inferior Progenitor strain. God only knew what could happen if the T-Virus strain that was so very coveted by the researchers Umbrella hired got out into the open and Hunk didn't relish the thought of finding out what would happen should the possibility occur.

The troops fell silent and focused their attention back on the map as the pointer dashed across the screen and highlighted the southernmost arrow point on the circle, causing to flash briefly and increase in size, a picture of a large camp of tents appearing in the top left corner of the screen. "This is the main outpost for the UBCS blockade. From here, you will be in constant contact with the highest ranking UBCS Supervisor at this outpost, where he will supply you with information about the area and on the BOWs activities, including its last known position in the sector; they will also provide emergency evacuation for you by sending up a helicopter at the sight of the nearest distress flare in case you are unable to return to the blockade. However, the board has given express orders that the UBCS soldiers are not to leave the blockade for any reason and to maintain the perimeter around the area, meaning that you men are operating solo once you hit the ground," McVarian explained, the screen changing back to reveal his face again.

Hunk didn't bother to make any response along with the other soldiers since he already knew how the operations were planned out, set up and commenced, having been on many missions already in his service to the corporation and learning the entire method his missions were carried out by heart in order to remain on top of all necessary information. Whilst he and the USF troopers were deployed into the area to rectify the situation, the UBCS were positioned around the operational destination to maintain a constant blockade tasked with keeping the BOWs in and all outside interference out, which would stay there until the USF called in to report mission success and was picked up from the area, where the UBCS would commence clean-up of all the evidence and wipe away any remaining BOWs that were still running around in the area.

And, in case anything went wrong during a mission or a T-Virus outbreak should occur, the UBCS were tasked with taking full-control of the operation and to be sent into the area to clear out all of the BOWs themselves by any means necessary though only as a last resort, since the corporation couldn't risk sending large military forces labeled clearly by their company logo to go around attracting public attention during a massive fire-fight with escaped BOWs when they had the potential to keep the whole thing quiet by sending in a private special forces team to take care of it, so Hunk naturally didn't believe that was anything strange about the current mission.

However, as he glanced around the helicopter, taking in everything around him, a small sense of doubt slowly grew in the back of his mind that this was maybe a different mission that then before, that there was more going than they knew of because, looking around him he could already spot some key differences from all of the other missions he had been on, such as the fact that the number of USF seated with him in the helicopter were forty people, ten for each squad, instead of the usual 24 men six-per-squad members and the large crates that were packed against the far side of the cabin. In addition, the amount of UBCS being assigned in retaining the blockade around the area was a lot higher than the usual number, as McVarian had stated that there were several platoons involved in the mission instead of the original one or two platoons, since there was a greater risk that it would attract more attention to the area, especially with the Umbrella's business logo embroidered on their sleeves, meaning that this renegade BOW was probably more problematic than thought before.

"What type of BOW are we dealing with?" Hunk questioned sternly, causing the soldiers to briefly glance in his direction.

As the question hung in the silent air between them, the other soldiers exchanging brief glances between Hunk and McVarian who regarded each other with stern stares for a few suspenseful minutes, the aged colonel let out a deep melancholy sigh and ran his hand nervously through his white hair, biting his lower lip as his mind attempted to phrase the answer he had for the better so that, a deep frown appearing on his forehead and the lines under his eyes growing deeper, a sign that developed over the years to show whether he was stressed or worried about something, Hunk immediately felt a small sense of regret at asking that question since, if there was anything that caused the colonel stress on a mission, which was such a rare occurrence for a man who had seen more action and been in more battles than every member of the USF combined, he was sure that it would probably be bad for all of them.

"Men," McVarian said finally, looking up at them with a somewhat guilty expression, "I know that no matter what I say to you now isn't going to ease your fears of what you will be fighting against or make your job any easier to do, so I won't lie to you. The BOW that had escaped from the European Division was a prototype BOW, a newly-created product made on a new venture started by Director Henri to produce a superior model of the Tyrant BOW series. What you will be going up against is the Nemesis Mark I."

All of the soldiers let out sharp gasps of shock in recognition at the mention of the BOW and began to murmur amongst themselves, the cabin filling up with the constant mindless chatter of the soldiers as they spoke with each other about the mission, the fear and tension they had felt before during their flight coming to back to haunt them, thickening the air between them and echoing in their voices, muffled as they were through the gas-masks. Hunk found that he couldn't blame them for being frightened since he practically felt the same, his fingers tightening around his weapons, his breathing starting to grow rapid and his heart rate gradually increasing behind his rib cage because, although he had been on many more missions that none of the other soldiers seated around him, all of which he was the only survivor left to complete it and escape unharmed, and had fought dozens of humans and animals that had been mutated by the corporation's biological weaponry, and renegade BOWs that had managed to escape from their laboratories into the outside environment, he had never once even seen one of Umbrella's new Tyrant-class BOWs in person, let alone fought one in combat before on any of his missions.

But, from what he overheard from some of the research staff stationed at Rockfort during his time on leave back at the island, which he normally spent training and having a cold beer at the Ashford residence's private bar, the board and the research staff had apparently classified the Tyrant BOW series as one of their best accomplishments in their BOW projects yet, due to the performance that the Tyrant Prototypes demonstrated in the last decade, and since they had finally managed to resolve some problems that occurred in their research, problems which Hunk felt neither the need nor the obligation to find out about, the board had already ordered for the mass-production of the Tyrant series, several laboratories in America and Europe having produced over fifty Tyrants already in the past year alone. In addition, after having conducting several tests with the new Tyrant series, the researchers were ecstatic about using them in live combat situations, claiming that their intellectual abilities were in perfect comparison with their incredible combat abilities against other BOWs, all of them eager to see how well the Tyrants fared against actual soldiers whilst under orders from the corporation's higher-ups themselves; although, he did hear a brief mention about the Nemesis, about how it was supposed to be a 'superior model' to the Tyrant series with 'entirely unique combat abilities' and 'even greater intellect' than the current Tyrant crop, about how Director Henri was attempting to create the 'utlimate BOW' from all of their research, but he didn't pay much heed to their conversations and had focused more on his training.

Although, judging by the appearance of the Nemesis in the picture appeared on the screen, the image of Colonel McVarian having snapped off-screen to be replaced by the only photo they had of the Nemesis Mark I, despite how badly out of focus it was and that the lighting was very poor in the picture, he finally understood why the science staff had been so proud of their creation and he fully agreed with their proclamations that the Tyrant BOW series were certainly a formidable fighting-force, especially in regards to the Nemesis being the ultimate BOW, as he stared at the large imposing figure that floated in the murky green liquid inside the stasis tank displayed on the photo, taking in the muscled limbs, broad shoulders and muscular physique that rested inside the huge tank, barely floating above the floor and its head nearly thumping against the top of the tank, along with the long fleshy ropes that trailed along its left arm, feeling somewhat grateful that it wasn't in full focus for him to see it properly.

_I'd hate to meet him in a dark alleyway anywhere or even in daylight. He looks built enough to snap a man in half and lift up a truck along with a 300 tonne container._

"Sorry for the bad picture," McVarian said apologetically, snapping Hunk out of his thoughts and bringing him back to focus on the task at hand, "This was the only decent photo we could find of the Nemesis Mark I itself for you to examine; it had been taken by some of the research staff during the earlier experiments to be used as a file reference along with the additional research data. I would have shown you some of the video footage taken by the surveillance equipment at the 6th European Laboratory complex so you could see how the Nemesis operates in a combat situation, but unfortunately, Director Henri has denied me access to the records whilst her complex in under going repairs."

"Is there anything else you can provide us that could help in our mission against this...thing?" Charlie-1 asked, a few of the soldiers murmuring in agreement.

McVarian shook his head. "No. Director Henri has decided to have all of the research data sealed away in the lab complex for her research team to uncover the cause of what had made this Nemesis model and to examine them for a method to ensure that this doesn't happen again, though I think it is more to do with this petty competition she holds between me and her for Lord Spencer's approval." He let out a small sigh, the irritation in his voice barely registering to Hunk's ears. "Sometimes, I think that she is just too ambitious and competitve for her own good health. Besides, according to Miss Henri, apparently the Head Researcher of the Nemesis Project, Dr Dubois, had fled from the facility in his car and chased after the Nemesis for whatever idiotic reasons make sense to him, so we can't ask for help from him; they say that his trail faded away in the same sector that you will be arriving at and that the Nemesis is still there, meaning he may be dead or still out looking," the colonel explained, rubbing his eyes slightly to relieve some of the stress he felt.

Hunk groaned softly behind his mask in response to that, finding it somewhat irritating and utterly stupid about the petty competition between McVarian and Henri, as the colonel had put it, and that the lead scientist, Dubois, would be so stupid as to chase after the Nemesis on his own. Although, having spent some time, however minute, with the researchers stationed at Rockfort Island, he had come to notice the way that they spoke about their work, the awe-inspired wonder ringing in their voices, the twisted joyful expressions on their faces and the obvious obsessional undertone that lay beneath their words, so he knew it was no surprise that some of the scientists would attempt to go after their work despite the immediate dangers there were involved, especially if they had been working on a single project for longer than anyone else and if they had the highest rank on the project. However, despite how much understanding he had for the obsessional behaviour, he could not possibly understand the competition that Henri supposedly held between herself and the colonel for Spencer's approval, since the colonel didn't particularly give a toss about it at all, more focused on fulfilling the tasks that were given to him and providing his utmost loyalty towards Spencer and Umbrella, like Hunk himself had always done ever since he had been recruited, but he never bothered to ask about it nor did he have the clearance to, being a USF member meaning that all information was on a strictly need to know basis.

Is there anything we can use to help bring down the Nemesis?" Beta-1 questioned, drawing Hunk's attention back to the screen.

McVarian nodded. "Since we can't provide you with any information about the Nemesis, Spencer gave me permission to have some new weapons and munitions delivered to you for this mission. For example, the rounds you are currently using are Anti-BOW rounds, specially customized ammunition filled with an experimental sedative that can theoretically shock a BOW's nervous system and temporarily stun it for a few seconds. We have also provided you with an ARWEN 37 grenade launcher with some experimental grenade rounds, which are the Flame Rounds, Acid Rounds and Freeze Rounds; the Flame Rounds are the standard issue buckshot grenade shells combined with a potent and highly flammable mixture of napalm filled in with the gunpowder, that will instantly ignite and burn any surface it comes into contact with for several minutes to near enough an hour at a time, depending on the surface its fired at. The Acid Rounds function the same as the Flame Rounds, except that they use a highly corrosive acidic agent that can melt through any surface it contacts, even through the toughest metals. And the Freeze Rounds are grenades round that contain an extremely frigid solution of liquid nitrogen that will instantly freeze any object it touches once the fluid reacts to the oxygen in the air. And finally, we have provided you with a new prototype-weapon that has been supplied to us directly from the Russian Weapons Development Section, the Linear Launcher, a customized and upgraded rocket launcher that use high-voltage electrodes stored in the barrel and a solution of synthetic hydrogen-plasma in the chamber to create a projectile that can obliterate any and ALL entities it strikes; however, the launcher can only be used a number of times before it needs to recharge again and every time it fires, the projectile development takes longer to build up in the barrel to be used, so use it wisely," the colonel explained crisply.

At least that was a measure of good news for everyone, including Hunk, that they would be using new and improved weapons, equipment and munitions on their mission, which they would desperately need to battle the Nemesis BOW once they arrived at the mountain range, taking the point that it was a Tyrant class BOW into consideration and had the physique to rip a man's arm with one hand, and they didn't know how well their weapons could hurt it should they enter a fight with it. Although, they would have to be careful when using them, more so with the prototype Linear Launcher, since a lot of them were experimental grade weaponry and munitions, which meant that they had yet to be tested anywhere on any of the current BOWs and no one in Umbrella's private armies knew how they would fare against a BOW like the Nemesis in a life combat situation.

_Still, anything is better than nothing._

"What are our objectives for this mission?" Alpha-1 asked.

"Your primary objective is to locate and destroy the Nemesis Mark I before it escapes the area; you have the highest possible authority to use whatever means necessary to achieve this goal. Your secondary objectives are to locate and rescue Dr Dubois who is still in the area, if he's alive that is; however, if he refuses to accompany you and continues to act eratically, you have permission to terminate him should it be absolutely necessary," McVarian answered sternly. As the helicopter gradually began to slow down and everyone got up from their seats, McVarian cleared his throat to keep their attention on him and, with a grim expression on his face, he said, "One last warning before you go. The Nemesis Mark I had been wounded before you had arrived on-scene and its infected bodily fluids had been exposed to the wilderness around you, but the security patrols were called back before any decontamination or investigation actions could be taken, and the virus may have spread around the environment and infected other life-forms on the area, so watch your backs down there. Understood?"

All of the soldiers nodded firmly in response.

"Good luck to all of you," McVarian said, his voice filled with immense pride towards his troops, offering them a quick salute, which everyone returned fully, before the screen faded to black and the engineer sent the screen back into the roof of the cabin with a few push of the buttons on the keypad.

"We are over the drop zone now guys. This is your stop. Please mind the gap and leave no personnel belongings behind," the pilot quipped, earning a few laughs from some of the soldiers standing in the cabin.

Once the helicopter slowed to a stop over a small clearing in the vast woodland below and hovered in place above it at several feet in the air, the engineer slid open the hatches on either side of the cabin, revealing the wide forest stretching out along the horizon, the huge mountains of stone towering over the trees a few yards away, and the clear evening sky bright with stars and the silvery orb of the moon outside, hooked three ropes to the roof of the cabins and threw them out of the open hatches, the ropes uncoiling themselves rapidly on their descent and smacking faintly against the grass below. In threes, the USF squads slid down the ropes, landing with a soft thud on the ground and hurried into a defensive formation, weapons raised towards the tree-line encircling the clearing, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble.

Once the area had been deemed clear and all of the USF troopers had landed on the ground, the engineer and load-master brought the large crates over to the hatches, secured the ropes around them carefully and gently lowered them down to the ground one by one, hitting a small switch on the winch attached to the hatches to recoil the ropes back into the chopper, slamming the doors shut behind them and the helicopter began to bank away from the clearing, flying off far into the horizon away from the area until it became an inconspicuous dark speck against the evening sky, the sounds of its rotor blades gradually fading away into silence, leaving only the sounds of the rustling leaves on the trees branches and the rapid breathing of the soldiers crouched in the small clearing somewhere amongst the wide forested area.

"Everyone, maintain constant visuals on the surrounding area and stay in formation. I'll get the UBCS on the radio and ask them for information," Alpha-1 stated firmly before he stood up and placed his hand over his head-set radio, switching it on with a flip of the transmitter button and tuning the frequency with several turns of the small dial attached to the side over his right ear, trying to discern the signal through the white noise of static as he called out in the radio repeatedly for an answer.

Hunk merely nodded slightly in response to the orders and ignored Alpha-1's voice that rang in his own head-set along with the static, keeping his gaze focused entirely on the looming shadows in front of him, scanning the region for any signs of trouble and trying to keep his mind clear enough that his senses wouldn't become too dull that he would drop his guard, which would mean certain death if the Nemesis attacked them right then. However, after several minutes of standing watch in the clearing and listening to Alpha-1 continually speaking in the radio for an answer, he felt himself growing more and more impatient with staying in the same spot and keeping guard in a single clearing when they had to search throughout the entire woodland for the Nemesis and destroy it before it escaped, to get the mission objectives done in the quickest of time and make it back to the extraction point before anything else went wrong. That was the method in how he always ran his missions, quickly in, deal with all the enemies that appeared, complete all objectives that the corporation demanded of him and make it back to the LZ for extraction before the situation got worse or the time-limit for extraction expired, and this mission would be no exception to him, no matter what he was up against or where he was sent to. All in all, with this policy firmly in his mind and with the large arsenal of weapons he had been supplied with, he felt more than ready for his mission.

However, he briefly wondered whether or not he was actually ready for this mission since, even though he had went up against many BOWs in his lifetime and had survived every encounter with barely any scratches to himself, the enemy this time was one of the most powerful BOWs created by Umbrella's research department, one capable of standing up to massive amounts of firepower and possessing enough strength to tear a man in half without wasting any energy whatsoever in the process, and he had no idea how this acted, how it attacked, how it moved. Hell, he hadn't even seen the damn thing nor any of its younger brothers in the Tyrant series.

And as he glanced around at his comrades keeping watch of the area around him, he didn't really think they were ready for the mission ahead either, their professional demeanor and forced calmness barely able to control the fear that gripped them, their breathing soft and ragged through their gas-mask helmets, their hands gripping their weapons tightly, some of them trembling slightly as their hands began to shake, their eyes cast about frantically behind their visors at the forest surrounding, staring warily at the thick shadows shrouding the trees in darkness, the moonlight scarcely providing enough light to see beyond the first few branches and bushes, providing very little reassurance towards the already frayed nerves of the soldiers.

Judging by the way they looked and the thick sense of dread that filled the mood between them all, Hunk could tell that they would be more concerned with keeping themselves alive and he couldn't really blame them for acting so afraid with what they were going up against. A small part of Hunk's mind hoped that they would survive, that they would make it out alive after this mission was over, since he didn't particularly enjoy seeing his comrades die as they were soldiers like him, loyal to the company they worked for and required to enter dangerous situations which involved very small chances of survival, following whatever orders they were given and laying down their lives to those who gave the orders, but he knew that, despite what that little part of his mind objected to, his comrades were of little importance in the greater picture, that the only way they would survive is by completing the missions as quickly as possible, which was the most important factor of the situation.

No matter how loyal they were to the company or how highly skilled their training had made them to do their duties, Hunk knew that everyone in the USF, even himself, was expendable since the corporation cared only about their own power and influence over the world, and those who could help protect it. Thus, as this mission was a large danger of exposure to the corporation and could cripple them badly should anything pertinent be leaked to the public, the corporation was more concerned that the mission was completed without mistakes and as quickly as possible before the situation got any worse for them.

_Either way, the mission takes full priority over everything else, including the others. Just stick with that principle, remember your training and trust your instincts._

That, in every sense of the word, was the ultimate truth for Hunk, one that he had come to rely upon during his entire life and that no one could possibly deny or rebuke in any way whatsoever. That policy had always served him well over his life and it wouldn't fail him now, whether or not he would be fighting against something like the Nemesis; it hadn't failed him back on the streets of New York, or Africa, or Utah, or in the Amazon, or in Crete, and in turn he had always succeeded in each of his missions. In fact, that very policy had helped him to overcome his fear of death, to control the immense feeling of fright he had felt as a child upon what might happen should he fail in his mission, to provide a sense of reason as to why, despite how afraid he was the concept of death and the darkness beyond, he was able to focus so well on mission and complete it to the utmost perfection without even experiencing a twinge of that emotion in his mind, to hold such fierce courage during a dangerous mission that presented him with impossible odds of survival and keep his sanity in check when he had watched his comrades be killed before his eyes, and how he had managed to survive to see the next day, granting him the infamy and admired reputation he currently had today. And, in short, providing him with one incentive that had truly defined the only trace of truth in the world of lies he was brought into.

"The Death cannot die," he muttered under his breath, the sound barely audible to his own ears over the wind that whistled in the canopy of leaves and branches.

"This USF Alpha Squad Leader calling UBCS Supervisor at Blockade Area Sector C, using frequency 5.12. Do you hear me?" Alpha-1 asked aloud, his voice echoing through the eerie breeze around the forest and through the head-sets on each of the USF soldiers around him.

After a brief interlude of hissing static, the head-set radio crackled several times and let out a series of random clicks before a voice answered in a heavily French accent over everyone's head-sets, "Zis is the UBCS Supervizor, 1st Lieutenant Jacque D'Mont. "We read you loud and clear. What is your current location?"

"We have just touched down in the sector. We re currently a few clicks away from the southernmost stretch of your blockade," Alpha-1 answered crisply.

"Bien. Anyway, welcome to France, mes amis. Je suis desolee zat you are here under bad circumstances. You would probably love ze countryside," the UBCS supervisor remarked politely.

"Merci. However, we need information. Where was the Nemesis Mark I's last known location?" Alpha-1 asked.

"About a couple of clicks north, near the base of the mountain range. The security team had lost its trail in the eastern perimeter of the sector and had to pull back to secure the laboratory complex, under orders from Director Henri. However, I had sent out patrols before setting up the barricade and my troops reported that they had managed to pick up the trail, following it near enough to the mountain range, but that's as far as it went," the supervisor answered.

"Any intelligence on the local area of the mountain range?"

There was a moments pause on the other end, the hushed sounds of a hurried conversation barely audible enough for Hunk to even notice it, before the supervisor gave a reply,

"Only a small hunting cabin used by the local hunters and hikers in the region. It's placed at a small crook near a waterfall that runs along the mountain base, about in the north eastern direction from your current location."

"Is there anyone out at the cabin at the moment?" Alpha-1 asked.

"Non."

"What about Dubois?"

"Dr Dubois' trail ended near one of the logging trails along the north eastern area of the woods. We believe he has left the main road and is now searching the mountain base for his creation along the range in his car; if possible, he may have either stopped at the cabin by the crook or is starting to climb the mountains via the roads that lead up the mountains to the few clicks west of the cabin."

"Has he made any contact with any of your outposts or the laboratories at any time he's been in the area?"

"Not that we are aware of. I'll run communication checks just in case."

"Okay. Thanks. We'll contact you again when the mission is done."

"Good luck, soldiers. Au revoir." And with that, the radio snapped off and the head-sets let out only the small whisper of silence through their helmets.

Alpha-1 took his hand away from his head-set and turned towards the squads around him, taking his rifle of his back and slapping in a fresh clip.

"Alright, men, you know what we're here for, so lets get this done as quickly as possible and get back home before things get any worse. We have to take out the renegade Nemesis unit and wipe out any other BOWs that we encounter along the way in order to prevent this outbreak from spreading too far out of control. We also have to find Dr Dubois as well, either alive or dead, whether or not he is a secondary objective, so we'll split up and search out the targets. Alpha and Beta will head northeast towards the cabin, keeping their eyes out for signs of Dubois or his vehicle; Charlie and Delta will move to the northwest towards the mountain range and begin the search for the Nemesis," he explained crisply, his tone calm and professional despite the fear that weighed upon all of them at what they were going to be up against. He then gestured towards the weapon crates sitting in the center of their defensive circle. "Delta and Charlie will take the weapons with them on their search for the Nemesis whilst we head towards the cabin for Dubois. I want constant radio updates and for everyone to keep sharp at the area around you; we don't know what this thing is capable of and we need to be ready for the bastard should he turn up. Understood?"

All of the soldiers nodded sharply in response.

Alpha-1 nodded back. "Delta, Charlie, grab the weapons. Alpha, Beta, switch on night-vision and move out to the northeast. Alpha-4, you're on point. Let's go," he ordered grimly.

Immediately, Delta and Charlie squads gathered around the crates sitting behind them, popping them open with small clicks and taking out the weapons inside, distributing the ammunition between them fairly so that all were well-equipped to combat the Nemesis should it appear, then they headed off to the northwest in a long line formation in the shape of the letter I, two men at the front and rear with the rest stretched out between them in two straight lines, their weapons loaded with the new ammunition and pointed in the general area around them as they slowly disappeared in the trees, whilst Alpha and Beta squads set out to the northeast, exchanging brief nods towards their comrades in the other squads, conveying some last form of encouragement for what lay ahead before they too vanished into the overshadowed wilderness spanning miles ahead of them, senses alert and weapons ready.

Hunk led them through a small copse at the edge of the clearing, gently pushing aside the branches in his way and stepping across the thorn bushes growing between the trees, dry weeds crackling underfoot and twigs snapping beneath his boots as he crept onwards through the woods, the sounds of his squad mates walking behind him providing some small measure of reassurance to his already on-edge nerves, his breathing soft and measured through his gas mask. He could still hear Delta and Charlie squads nearby him, walking in the other direction from where he was a few yards away to his left, their snippets of muffled conversations, their footsteps crunching on the leaves and twigs scattered across the floor, and the clinking noises their equipment made as it bounced on their backs from their movements reaching his ears, but those sounds gradually faded away into the perpetual silence that had engulfed the entire forest.

Glancing about him, Hunk couldn't help but feel a little nervous at his surroundings, barely able to see enough of the area or even what was laying in front of him as he continued to lead his squad in what he assumed was a northeasterly direction, what little light the moon was casting down onto the forest from the sky above him scarcely penetrating the canopy that covered the trees standing around him in dense groups, only providing enough illumination for him to at least register a small area of the direction he was leading his squad through.

And, as he led Alpha and Beta squads past a large oak tree in their path, taking great care not to trip over the large roots that sprouted up through the soil, smirking in amusement at the cursing and fumbling of the other soldiers who had the misfortune to catch their foot on the roots, causing them to slightly stumble in their step, his ears (already strained to catch the slightest hint of any sound that might be registered as an enemy) didn't pick up anything that sounded like either the Nemesis, a car or the activities of any dangerous creatures nearby.

In fact, listening carefully to the area around him during his trek through the woodland with his comrades hiking behind him, he found that he couldn't actually hear anything else at all except for the whistling breeze in the trees, the rustling leaves swaying on the branches and the footsteps of his squad behind him, the snaps and crackles of the undergrowth matching those made by his own boots. He was in a large forest in the middle of a natural countryside which was meant to be filled with birds and animals alike, even insects that had the inherited trait to stay up during the nighttime period and emanate soft sounds in commemoration of the newly arrived spring, yet the entire wilderness was unnaturally still and empty, the only sources of noise made by the presence of the human soldiers marching through the looming shadows brought on by the night instead of the multitude of wildlife that were supposed to be habiting in the woods.

After he listened more intently to the silence around him and snapped his gaze from one part of the area to another, finding no signs of life anywhere amongst the trees and bushes growing around him, Hunk felt slightly concerned and afraid that he was walking into a trap, that he was being stalked by some unknown threat and things were going to get real bad. Real soon. And from how his other missions had turned out, most of them significantly similar to his current situation, he had learned from experience that those thoughts had nearly enough come true.

_It just shows your intuition is still sharp as training has made it. Just trust in it, you principles and the skills you've learned, then you are more than ready for anything,_ his mind reassured him in a stern, professional term, giving Hunk a small measure of comfort that he was prepared as he led his squad deeper into the woods.

"Everyone, switch on night-vision," Alpha-1 ordered quietly through their radios, looking up at the sky and noticing how the moon began to sink behind the clouds floating around it, the light it cast off becoming shrouded completely and the darkness growing thick enough that no one could see their hands in front of their own faces, the soldiers giving off slight murmurs of fear before being silenced by the sharp bark of their commanding officers.

With a flip of the switch attached to the left-hand side of his helmet, Hunk's visor flickered once in response to the electricity sparking through it and his vision soon filled with the bright green texture of the NV visor mode, the entire forest turning bright green all around through his eyes, revealing the path he was walking along and that the area around him was clear. However, he knew that he couldn't let his guard at all, even if he saw no sign of the enemy, and so raised his weapon and pressed onward with his squad still following.

After a few minutes of slow marching through the woods, most of it involving a few turns to pass around large trees and climbing over a few sodden logs in their way, the team soon came to a small clearing that lay beyond the next copse of trees ahead, one filled with long grass about chest-high and a large stack of boulders piled close to the center. On approaching the clearing, Hunk had called the team to a halt with the raising of his clenched fist and Alpha-1 had sent a small scouting party to explore the area for potential threats, sticking to the trees so as not to expose themselves; however, the scouts reported no signs of danger and so everyone had gathered in the clearing for a brief moment of rest, most of them engaging in light conversations with each other or seating themselves amongst the rocks to rest tired limbs.

"Delta and Charlie leaders, this is Alpha-1. Respond please. Over," Alpha-1 asked from where he was standing in the long grass of the clearing, several squad members, including the leader of Beta, seated nearby on a small log.

"This is Charlie-1. We hear you. What's your sit-rep?" a male voice asked after a brief hiss of static.

"Currently taking a rest in a small clearing a couple of yards from the LZ. Still en route to the crook and cabin. No sign of Dubois or the Nemesis on our end," he answered calmly, pacing back and forth amongst the grass, ignoring the long plant strands that rubbed against him as he walked. "What about you guys?"

"We've reached the edge of the forest and are currently at the base of the mountain range. We're heading towards the trail to the west that leads over the mountains to begin our search," Charlie-1 replied.

"Any sign of the Nemesis?"

"No."

"What about Dubois?"

"No."

"Okay. Give another report again in the next fifteen minutes. Alpha-1 out." With a click, the radio shut off. "Alright. We're moving out again. Alpha-4, on point. Rest of you, stay frosty," he ordered sternly.

With a few murmurs of discontent and some outspoken complaints, Alpha and Beta squads got back to their feet, returned to their formation and continued on their hike, crossing the clearing back into the trees and deeper into the woods.

They spent the next few minutes hiking through the woods, still in what they thought was the northeastern direction, following Hunk who was back at the front of the two-line formation on point, weapons raised and senses still on high alert, the little rest they had barely providing any comfort to their nervous breathing or to the way some of their hands shook as they glanced about their position nervously, failing to see anything around them even with their night-vision on. Hunk, staying on guard and watching the area with a stern gaze, led them past a patch of fir trees growing a few meters from the clearing and stepped through some groups of flowers growing together in a copse further ahead, leading them in what he, like everyone else, thought was the northeastern direction of the woodland, although he was slightly disorientated on their path since nobody had a compass to check their bearings and, looking up at the sky, he couldn't even see the moon and stars spread up above in their natural bright mosaic of light and dark through the vast thick forest that stretched above them, so he was running blind on his guiding. Fortunately enough, the visibility had increased much for the better thanks to the night-vision and he could at least see where he was going, but even with their better vision, he knew that their target could still be lying in wait amongst the foliage and vast acres of trees watching them with whatever desires it had or emotions it felt, so he had to stay alert and attentive for any signs of danger.

Soon enough, after what had felt like hours for the soldiers hiking along the path, passing by place after place that looked exactly the same as the last one, Hunk saw that the tree-line ahead of them had grown to a stop, stopping at what looked like a long gravel trail that spanned far to his left and right, obviously one of the smaller roads that connected to the main roads in the area, vanishing further into the wilderness and natural maze of plant life, fading away until he couldn't see how far it went onwards even with his night-vision. He had just been about to lead them towards the trail, making their way closer and closer to the edge of the woods-

-when his ears caught a faint sound on the air, echoing out along the trail to their right, and he immediately drew up a sharp gesture for the squad to halt, scanning the area for immediate threats. When he found nothing was coming towards them from the trail, he lowered his hand down, palm flat and facing the ground, and crouched down in the grass behind a small pine tree, the rest of the squad following his gesture to get down.

"What's up? Alpha-1 whispered to Hunk, approaching his side quietly.

Hunk held his finger to his respirator and tapped his finger against his ear indicating that he could hear something ahead, gesturing with a small nod of his head towards the trail where it was coming from. Alpha-1 looked off in the direction of the noise and inclined his head slightly to hear the noise that Hunk had heard. When he finally managed to pick up the faint wailing sound emanating up ahead, he nodded sternly towards Hunk and looked back at the other soldiers behind them, holding up four fingers them pointing off towards the sound, indicating that he wanted four soldiers to go investigate the sound and report back; when none of them made any notion of volunteering, Beta-1 picked out three of the soldiers from their squads and ordered them . Once the other three soldiers came up to his side, Hunk made a small gesture for them to stay low and proceed quietly before he began a stealthy approach towards the sounds, creeping forward in a small crouch in the direction of the noise, following the trail to the right and staying well within the tree-line for cover, making as little noise as possible.

Alpha-9, one of the men sent out to investigate the noise, ducked down behind a small bush and glanced over the leaves to check the path ahead for him for any signs of trouble; finding none, he signaled to the others with the symbol of an O formed by placing his index finger of his left hand onto the thumb of the same hand, stating the area was clear, causing Beta-5 to move up from his hiding place amongst of pile of fallen leaves brought on by the soft breeze and dash past his comrade further ahead along the tree-line, ducking behind a large pine tree closer to the trail, and after casting his eyes around the area for any sign of trouble, he gave the 'Okay' sign back to the others; Alpha-7 leaped up from her position behind a fallen log once she noticed the sign and crept past her other comrades closer towards the edge of the tree-line surrounding the trail, ducking behind a cluster of thorn bushes growing in a mossy copse and passing back the 'Okay' sign after she scanned the area around her, detecting no signs of trouble or any immediate threats.

At that signal, Hunk came out from his hiding spot behind a smaller pine tree and ran past the other soldiers at a low crouch, trying to keep himself as inconspicuous and quiet as possible to anything watching the trees from the opposite edge of the trail, clenching his weapon tighter in his hands as he heard the sound grow louder with step closer he took, and ducked behind a large elm that overlooked the trail, taking deep breaths to calm himself and flicking the safety off on his weapon in preparation to leap out from his hiding place to surprise the source of the noise that continued to wail on the trail behind his hiding place, glancing quickly about himself for any threats nearby but finding none that stuck out or made itself visible to his night-vision. However, being as close as he was to the sound and listening to it cry out in full volume, Hunk vaguely recognized the sound as something he knew, as something everyone who had heard such a noise would say that they knew what it belonged to yet he found it hard to believe what it was.

And when he leaped out from behind his hiding place onto the trail, weapon raised and pointing at the source of the noise, he stared blankly at the object for several seconds, amazed that his intuition had been right as usual, despite the abnormal suggestion it had made towards the source of the noise.

_Well, I guess we found Dubois. Or what he was driving at least._

A few meters across from him, on the other side of the narrow gravel trail that had weeds and grass growing out from between the dust of the track, he saw a brown Peugeot 106 car sat against a large oaken tree, obviously having crashed due to the skid marks on the trail and dirt that branched off towards the thick oak tree it was wedged into, the bonnet severely crumbled and badly bent out of shape against the hardened trunk, the horn continuing to wail loudly over the soft breeze from the destroyed steering wheel, the driver's side door wide open and the light inside still flickering as the battery slowly died out, the entire front of its frame crushed beyond repair and covered in glass from the shattered windshield, smoke rising from its destroyed engine in thick black clouds and the sounds of crackling electricity flashing on the underside of the car, the rank odor of burning fuel and melting cable insulation choking him even through his gas-mask, and the taillights still shining brightly blinding him slightly as they flashed on the bright green haze of his night-vision. The ground around the crashed vehicle was charred black and covered in the ashes of burnt leaves, with the faint odor of burning pine and wood barely detectable over the unbearable stench of the burning fuel and wires inside the bonnet, indicating that there had been a fire recently but it managed to thankfully die out without causing a blaze throughout the dry forest.

After he scanned the tree-line at the opposite end of the trail for signs of trouble and found nothing that posed as a potential threat, he gave the 'Okay' gesture back to the other soldiers hiding amongst the trees that they could and walked closer towards the car, ignoring the stench that grew stronger with each step and coughing slightly behind his mask at the choking fumes that continued to seep through the crushed bonnet into his respirator, stopping next to the trunk and turning away from the harsh glare of the taillights that caused his eyes to squint tighter behind his visor. Gradually, the other three soldiers who had accompanied him stepped forth from the tree-line out onto the trail, casting their eyes about them cautiously for any signs of danger lurking in the shadows, their military training warning them that they were exposed slightly on the gravel path and with the taillights illuminating the area around them in a harsh red shine. Once each of the soldiers relaxed slightly, after finding no dangers around them, Hunk reached his right hand up to his head-set and flicked it on.

"This is Alpha-4. We have located the source of the noise; no immediate danger has been sighted. Over," he stated calmly on his helmet microphone.

"Roger that," Alpha-1 replied clearly through the radio. "What was the problem?"

"I think we have located Dr Dubois' car. Seems he veered off the trail and crashed into the tree. No sign of the doctor however. Over," Hunk answered.

"Copy that. Is the area clear?"

"Yes sir. No sign of any threats and the car seems to be in no danger of exploding. Over."

"Fine. We'll be there shortly. Out." With that, the radio snapped off.

Soon enough, the other members of Alpha and Beta squads emerged from the tree-line and walked over to where Hunk stood by the vehicle with the other three soldiers beside him, letting out the deep breaths they had been holding in for when they had first heard the noise, believing it to be something of a threat, and feeling somewhat relieved that it was nothing more than a simple car horn wrecked beyond belief. Soon enough, when all of the other members of Alpha and Beta squad had arrived on the trail, Alpha-1 emerged from the darkening shadows in the forest and stepped up towards Hunk, glancing down at the smashed car with a wary gaze, looking it over for any danger of exploding for a few seconds from the leaking fuel and sparking wires, before he gave Hunk a sharp nod and turned towards the soldiers gathered behind them.

"Alpha-3 and Beta-10, give the vehicle a quick examination and check the area around it. See if you can find anything that would indicate where Dubois has gone or if he's still alive," he ordered, picking out two soldiers at random and pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the car behind him. He glanced at the rest of the soldiers gathered around him. "Rest of you, eyes sharp for hostile movement and watch the trees. We're not out of trouble yet and we haven't seen the Nemesis so far, and I doubt that any of us here want to meet him face-to-face at this moment in time," he commented sternly, hefting his weapon to make the strap fit more comfortably on his back and taking up a position behind one of the trees on the edge of the trail.

The soldiers all nodded curtly in response to Alpha-1 and formed a small circle around the car, each of them facing the trees surrounding them along the trail with their weapons raised and senses on high-alert, watching the overshadowed woodland for their target, Hunk himself taking position behind the car and facing the tree-line in front of the car, whilst the two soldiers who had been picked out stepped up towards the car, Alpha-3 leaning inside the open driver's side door and opening the glove-box set in the dashboard next to the steering wheel, rummaging through the contents inside for some sort of clue whilst Beta-10 walked past the car into the trees past, moving slowly forward to the northeast with his eyes cast down to the ground beneath his feet, scanning the ground for any tracks or traces that would tell him the direction that the missing scientist had took off in.

"I don't like this, guys. I don't like this at all," one of the soldiers, a young man barely twenty years of age and a new recruit given the codename Alpha-8, complained quietly to himself.

"Oh listen to you whining. You're just being paranoid," another soldier, a woman standing next to him in the circle looking down the western direction of the trail, her codename Beta-6, replied dryly.

Alpha-8 scoffed in annoyance at her. "Paranoia's a good thing in this line of work. At least it keeps you alert."

Beta-6 chuckled. "And less sane than everyone here. What's there to be paranoid about? There's nothing here."

"Exactly!" Alpha-8 hissed in response, his voice growing nervous and beginning to waver. "There's nothing for miles around. No animals. No birds. No bloody insects. Not even the other squads. It's too creepy here."

A third soldier, a large muscular man with an imposing height crouched behind some thorn bushes growing on the side of the trail, his codename Beta-5, nodded grimly in agreement."Yeah. The entire place feels sort of...empty, like some kind of void. It's like we aren't even on Earth anymore," he said.

A fourth soldier, Beta-2, groaned slightly. "Funny. I think this place is more of a graveyard."

"All of you, quiet!" Alpha-1 exclaimed in a hushed voice, glaring at each of them in turn before shifting his gaze back towards the woods beyond.

"Yes sir. But I still don't like any of this," the recruit muttered gloomily under his breath.

"SIR!!" Alpha-3 exclaimed suddenly, catching everyone's attention.

"What is it?" Alpha-1 demanded, stepping closer to the car.

Alpha-3 pulled back out of the driver's side door as Alpha-1 came closer, leaving the glove box hanging open inside, stood up straight and turned towards Alpha-1, holding out a large object in his hand for them to see. From what Hunk could see, leaning slightly in his position to see past Alpha-1, the object the soldier had found was a small silver suitcase that he held up by the handle, the buckles undone and the lids hanging open, filled with a black foam in the bottom lid, the indentations of a small pistol and three clips embedded in the foam.

"Seems our friend Dubois is armed after all," the soldier remarked sternly.

Alpha-1 nodded. "Well, if he's armed, he may have a small chance of survival. Did you find anything else?"

Alpha-3 shook his head. "Apart from a spot of blood on the steering wheel and a burnt lab coat, nothing else. No indication of where he had gone."

"Alright. So our friend's armed and possibly injured somewhere in these woods. We just need to find him." Alpha-1 then looked over at Beta-10 in the trees, who was still scanning the ground under the canopy for tracks. "Anything?"

"No, not yet si-...Wait a minute," Beta-10 said, crouching down in the long grass and brushing some of large grass strands aside to see more clearly. He then stood sharply and snapped his head towards Alpha-1. "I've got some tracks here! They're fresh and definitely made by a person."

"Where do they lead?" Hunk asked sharply, earning a passing glare from Alpha-1 which he ignored.

Beta-10 crouched back down on the ground and examined the tracks again, pushing aside more weeds to see the direction where they led off to before he looked up at Hunk, his body almost completely obscured by the long grass even with Hunk's night-vision still on. "They lead off to the north east, probably towards the crook at the edge of the mountain range."

"Then he's heading for the cabin by the crook for rest and to treat his injuries. If we're lucky, he may still be there," Alpha-1 said. He then glanced at his watch. "It's coming up to ten minutes past midnight. We'll call Delta and Charlie squads for a sit-rep before we start following Dubois' trail. Our friend is still out there and still unaccounted for." Placing his right hand against his head-set and shifting his weapon to his left, he turned on his radio to Charlie's frequency and began twisting the small dial around to drown out the static that hissed through everyone's head-sets. "Delta. Charlie. This is Alpha. What's your position? Respond please. Over," he called out into the white noise that hissed through their radios.

"Delta squad here. Charlie is investigating one of the small trails to the west along the base of the mountain range. We are holding position by the main road over the mountains to the north; still no sign of Dubois or the Nemesis. Over," a cool female voice answered, her voice barely audible over the static.

"Roger that. We have found Dubois' car and we believe he is heading for the cabin at the crook. Can you meet us there? Over," Alpha-1 asked, tuning his radio to cancel out the still-ringing static.

"Copy Alpha. Charlie's just got back here and hasn't found anything, so there's no reason for us to stay here. We're on our way to- Holy fuck!!" the woman cried out, followed by the sharp cracks of gunfire.

"Delta!?!" Alpha-1 barked. "What's happening!?!"

"We are under attack!! I repeat, we are under attack!!" the radio sputtered, "Shit!! This thing is... It's the Nemesis!!! We have made contact with the Nemesis BOW!!"

"Cab you hold it off until we get there!?!" Alpha-1 demanded.

"No!! This thing is too fast!! We can't even see the fucker!" the woman shouted back over the radio, her frightened voice barely audible over the sound of gunfire and shouting from her other comrades. "We'll try to fall back as best as we can to the cabin!! Shit!!"

"This thing won't die!!! IT WON'T FUCKING DIE!!"

"Keep firing!!! Keep firing!!!"

"Concentrate fire on the vital areas!!! Aim for its eye!!!"

"Get some fucking grenades out there, for Christ's sake!!!"

"NO!! Get back!! NononoNONONO-"

"Delta-9 is down! Man down! Fuck!!"

"We're screwed here, man!! Lets run for it; we're screwed!"

"Delta!! Charlie!! Someone report, dammit!!" Alpha-1 bellowed into the radio desperately, trying to get a reply from someone on the other end.

No response came through, except for incoherent shouting, screams of pain and fear that eventually (and mercifully) gurgled to a stop, the fading successions of gunfire from the last remaining members of the squads and the deafening boom of grenades that caused the members of Alpha and Beta squad to cry out in pain and clutch their ears to drown out the loud explosions that roared through their radios as they watched the bright flash flare brightly in the distance, further away from their position in the shadows of the trees.

Slowly, the gunfire began to die out, the intermittent bursts growing fewer and longer between each shot, and the explosions soon dissipated into large black clouds of smoke that seemed invisible in the night sky, the screams echoing out on the eerie silence enveloping the forest for several more seconds before they were replaced by the sounds of flesh being ripped apart, blood splashing to the ground and the dry crack of bones being broken.

The sounds of something feasting.

"Delta? Charlie?" Alpha-1 asked again, his voice nothing more than a final whispering call.

But no one replied and all they heard was the noise of what had to be the Nemesis enjoying its brief meal.

The other soldiers fell silent in shock and horror at what they had just heard, no sound or motion being made as they stood rigidly in place at their positions in the defensive formation, trying to cope with the realization and disbelief that their comrades were all dead, although several of them cringed in disgust or fear at the horrid noises of flesh being ripped apart and the constant chewing on the other end from the Nemesis eating them, and one of them began to whimper silently to himself somewhere amongst the squads. Hunk, having heard the noises several times over his duty to Umbrella's Special Forces and witnessed what had happened to all of his comrades being killed when he was younger, simply listened quietly to the noises and let out a deep sigh to mourn his fallen comrades.

However, after a few seconds of listening to the feast on the other end of the radio, the Nemesis let out a loud animal roar out into the night, the primal howl echoing throughout the silent night, one filled with intense rage, agony and bloodlust that it sent a cold shiver up Hunk's spine, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end and all of the soldiers around him to gasp in fright at the howl.

"Delta and Charlie... My God, they're all dead!" Alpha-5 remarked, his voice beginning to waver and break.

"They never stood a chance. What the hell do we do now!?!" Alpha-3 demanded desperately.

Alpha-1 turned off his radio and let his hand slowly slump to his side before turning to face his men. "We head towards the cabin. Hopefully, Delta and Charlie will have at least made a retreat from the thing, but that's probably a vain hope at best. In either case, we have to make our way to the cabin and find Dubois, then w-"

"SIR!!" Beta-1 interrupted sharply, pointing towards the trees. "Movement!! Back in the trees!!"

"I've got movement over here, too!" Alpha-7 exclaimed, pointing off down the far end of the trail.

Hunk took a quick glance in the directions of where the two soldiers were pointing but he failed to see anything, even with the night-vision and turned back to watching the area in front of him when-

"I have movement. Few yards away, in the woods," he warned, raising his weapon at the thing that flashed before his visor

-he noticed a large shadow dash behind one of the trees, something to far away from him to catch any useful details or recognize what it was, the night-vision barely catching a glimpse of the thing before it had vanished back into the woods.

"I got movement here too!" Beta-2 announced from his position at the opposite end of the circle.

"They're all around us, man," someone muttered grimly under his breath.

Alpha-1 snapped his head around in all directions, his weapon raised and finger resting on the trigger, searching for the signs of the creatures surrounding them. "Can anyone specify what they are?" he asked sternly.

Before anyone could respond to the questions, a low hungry growl came from the darkness of the trees, a few feet away from Hunk's position, just behind the bushes and the copse that lay between the large trees growing along the trail. Hunk clenched his weapon tighter and peered into the woods, searching for signs of what had made the growl-

-but he heard another growl emanate from the trees, slightly further off into the trees, accompanied by another growl, then a third, all of them deep and guttural with hunger-

-and suddenly, Beta-10 let out a piercing scream of terror as several dark shapes pounced on him from the bushes and taking him down easily, his assault rifle opening fire as he fell, peppering the nearest tree with bullet holes and causing splinters to erupt from the wood.

Hunk leaped across the car's trunk as everyone else stood around him watching the scene in horror, ran towards the spot where Beta-10 had been attacked and stopped just beside the place where he fell, his eyes narrowing sharply when he was able to recognize the creatures and see what was attacking him.

_Shit. The infection's spreading._

The creatures that had took down Beta-10 were large foxes, nearly enough the size of adult wolves, which had been infected and mutated by the T-Virus from the Nemesis, probably by feasting on its spilled blood, due to the thick patches of red musculature that gleamed from between the tears in their orange fur, the large splashes of blood that stained several parts of its fur in red, the shining pieces of exposed bone that glistened sickly in the soft moonlight and the milky-white eyes that were filled with intense rage and ravenous hunger, fixed on devouring the hapless soldier pinned on the ground in front of him.

They tore and bit at every part of Beta-10's body, ripping out pieces of flesh through his uniform and chomping thoroughly on the pieces of meat through rotting jaws, blood splashing over their snouts and the ground around them, biting away at the soldier as he feebly tried to defend himself. Beta-10 continued to scream as the foxes tore at his body, blood spouting from several different wounds that the large infected animals gnawed into his flesh, his arms struggling to push away the animals from him. But the foxes simply bit at his arms and ripped out more of his flesh in response, the awful sound matching that of his screams, two of them eagerly eating away at his arms and legs whilst the others tore open his stomach, feasting on the slimy internal organs lying inside it.

Soon enough, Beta-10's screams began to gurgle and became choked on the blood that was accumulating in his throat, the choking and bubbling attempts at screaming muffled behind his respirator, his limbs beginning to slow down and lose energy, his struggles becoming weaker as more blood splashed across the front of his uniform and more of his flesh was ripped away by the foxes. Hunk could easily tell what was happening. He was dying.

However, before he could raise his weapon and do the only thing he could in the situation, to put him out of his misery and end his pain, one of the foxes leaped forward and sank its teeth into Beta-10's throat, tearing it out with great forces and splattering blood everywhere, causing the man's screams to become drowned in blood, his limbs to rest at his sides and his body to relax on the ground after one final rise for to breath.

The fox that had tore out the man's throat slowly turned its head around to face Hunk, still chewing on the piece of flesh in its jaws, and let out a deep ferocious snarl at him, its milky-white eyes fixed on him with insane bloodlust, the look of death emanate in its gaze, along with the traditional hunger and rage, crouching into an attack position, arching its back and lowering its head to prepare for a pounce at him.

But, Hunk's instincts were faster and his training had more than prepared his reflexes for the imminent attack. When the fox pushed off the ground with its paws outstretched, mouth wide open to show off its bloody fangs and snarling in rage at him, aiming to sink its teeth in his throat, he immediately raised the rifle at the creature and let loose a three-shot burst at it, the rounds catching it straight through its open jaws and blowing out its brain through the back of its skull in a shower of bloody gore, the body itself crashing into the dirt with a sharp yelp of surprise and probably pain.

At the sounds of the gunfire, the other foxes looked up from their previous meal and growled at Hunk, glaring at him in the traditional hunger and rage the infection brought them, pieces of flesh still hanging from their drooling jaws, each of them stalking forward a few steps before they picked up their speed into a full-fledged charge.

Hunk switched targets to the closest fox and opened fire, catching it in the left eye and knocking it to the ground dead, whilst he ran back to the other soldiers still standing behind him at the trail, switching targets and firing again, but missing by a few narrow inches.

As he closed the distance between himself and the clearing, the foxes crashing through the bushes and trees behind him in an attempt to catch him, the other members of Alpha and Beta squad let out a fusillade of shots at them, the force of the bullets knocking them down into the dirt and blowing them apart in a spray of gory organs and limbs. Once he reached the others, he spun around and attacked any more that still remained, taking great aim and shooting them through their heads to down them for good, but more of the foxes continued to appear from the trees and charge towards them, some of them going down under the fire that barraged upon them yet the others ignored their deaths and nimbly leaped over their corpses, fixed on consuming the new prey in front of them-

-and when Hunk heard the scream behind him, along with the growls of the infected foxes, and had looked back over to see what was happening, he saw that four more foxes had leaped out from behind the dense forest and were mauling at the struggling form of Beta-2, all of them having crept up behind him and taking him down to the ground, sinking their teeth deep into his flesh and tearing away pieces of flesh in their jaws to eat.

Spinning around, he fired his rifle at the first dog that was gnawing on Beta-2's shoulder, the rounds hitting it in the chest and knocking it away with a sharp yelp, its sides heaving with heavy breaths and blood pooling beneath it's rotting body on the dirt. Immediately, several of the other squad members turned away from the other gunfight and the foxes that came at them from the trees to the north, opening fire on the foxes attacking Beta-2, peppering their bodies with several bullet holes, causing their rotting forms to explode in clouds of blood and guts, their crippled forms crashing down onto the forest floor in an outburst of leaves flying in the air.

"Jesus!! They're everywhere!" Beta-6 exclaimed, gesturing to the other foxes that approached them with lightening speed as she fired at the ones emerging onto the trail.

"Lets get the fuck out of here!!!" Alpha-5 cried out, his hands trembling violently and his breathing rapid through his gas-mask in a high-pitched wheezing noise, his shots going wide and hitting trees as he stared back at the horrific animals that charged them.

"We're holding our position!!" Alpha-1 declared furiously, firing at one of the foxes and catching it in the right cheek. "We have enough ammunition to take them hold for as long as possible. We have to wait fo-"

Whatever else Alpha-1 had to say to the rookie was cut short by the corpse of Beta-10, which had been resurrected by the virus caused by the wounds he had suffered, biting into his neck and chewing on his throat, causing blood to splash down the front of his uniform and over the man's deathly pale face as Alpha-1 screamed out in pain at the zombie ripping out some his blood vessels in his neck, blood pouring from his mouth and his hands vainly trying to push away the monster behind him.

At the sight of Beta-10, a former companion who should have been dead, attacking his commanding officer and feasting on his flesh, blood pouring out in rivets over the pair of them and staining their faces, one fixed in an expression of perpetual agony and the other deathly pale with vacant milky eyes enveloped in an insatiable hunger, and the sounds of the awful moaning that emanated from his comrade's lips, Alpha-5's already stretch nerves had reached their limit and what was left of his courage shattered under the emotional breakdown that had weighed down on him, causing him to throw aside his weapons and take off at a frantic dash down the trail in a futile attempt to escape from the horrors behind him-

-but he didn't make it very far along the trails as some of the foxes took notice of him broke off from the head pack and turned towards him, closing the distance between them in the space of a few seconds before they pounced on him from the bushes, taking him down and began eating him alive, his screams joining those of Alpha-1 as he thrashed about on the floor, trying to crawl out of the small group that had caught him in their jaws.

Hunk turned and fired a single burst into Alpha-1's face, putting him out of his misery, and the zombie tearing out his throat, then shot the zombie form of Beta-2 as it reached out to grasp hold of Beta-6's leg, attempting to take a chunk out of the soldier's ankle, before he turned back to the treeline and opened fire on the still-approaching foxes in the trees.

Alpha and Beta held their formation for as long as they could, killing most of the foxes that came from the trees and charged at them, but they still suffered from casualties as more and more of the foxes appeared from the tree-line in a never-ending wave of infected. The sights of large rotting, fur-matted bodies, milky-white eyes glaring in rage and hunger, the USF being eaten alive and the flashes of gunfire and grenade explosions, along with the sounds of flesh being eaten, ligaments torn apart, bones breaking, bullets flying through, the eerie howls of the foxes and the screams of the dying soldiers being eaten made the trail look like a road to Hell. However, the two squads continued to hold out for as long as possible, staying in their formations and firing at any of the foxes that came close to their positions, although their ammunition was depleting rapidly and the foxes seemed to be endless, the infected animals continually bursting from the trees and charging at them in severe bloodlust.

Hunk reloaded his rifle for the second time in the battle, the empty clip crashing to the dirt beside the other empty clips as he slapped in the next one hooked on his belt, aimed at the nearest fox and fired at the creature, the bullets smacking into its face and blowing apart its jaw before it fell down into the dirt. But he immediately switched targets to another fox that jumped over its fallen pack member and fired again, the three round burst punching neat holes in its chest and knocking it back to the ground, the animal giving off a small yelp from the wounds it had received and settling to the ground, blood pooling under it as it went into the final spasms that signaled the end of its life.

Glancing around him, he could see that all of the soldiers were engaged in the fighting, with what little ammunition they had left being drained considerably, the brass casings spread out amongst the stones and grass on the trail, all of them firing at the foxes that surrounded them on all sides and the dead strewn across the trail in pools of blood that darkened even in night-vision. And with their numbers slowly dwindling, he knew that they would soon be overrun if they stayed in their positions any longer; in addition, even though they were meant to eradicate all traces of the infection and to eliminate all infected organisms in the area, their primary target was to locate the Nemesis Mark I and destroy it before it managed to escape the UBCS blockade, not to mention they were still to find Dubois, alive or otherwise, and he was supposed to be somewhere in the area, so they had to find him. Although, if they all stayed where they were at the moment, they would end up dead and the mission would be a failure.

Hunk hastily snapped out of his thoughts on the matter when another fox emerged from the trees onto the trail and leaped at him with jaws wide open to reveal dripping fangs, the drool infected with Umbrella's killer virus, its rotting clammy paws shoving hard against his chest and its weight knocking him to the ground before he could raise his weapon in defense, the rifle falling from his hands to the ground beside him. As the fox lowered its head to bite his throat, Hunk grabbed the fox by both sides of the head and broke its neck to one side with a loud snap. Throwing aside the limp body, he rolled along the trail and scooped up his fallen rifle, took aim and fired at another fox that charged at the trail, hastily getting to his feet and rejoining the fight.

He continued to fire at the numerous infected foxes that appeared until his gun gave of the dry click of an empty clip and he loaded in his last clip, his eyes casting about for an escape route as he fired back at the foxes; soon enough, he spotted one large gap between the charging foxes that seemed to wide enough for him to break through and gain a headstart on them before they would engage in pursuit with their dwindling numbers.

Taking one of the grenades from his belt, he pulled the pin and threw it at the nearest pack of foxes, taking off at a huge sprint into the trees when the loud explosion roared in the light and the bright flash nearly blinding him in his night vision as he smashed through some bushes in front of him, his eyes slowly regaining focus from the flashes of color that played across his visor. He took a short glance over his shoulder behind him to see the grenade flash gradually fade away into darkness and the roar of the explosion grow silent over the gunfire that raged nearby, a shower of destroyed body parts and shrapnel shredded gore raining down on the ground with a thin trail of black smoke rising to the night sky above the canopy of leaves and branches that shrouded the wood around him, most of the foxes having been decimated by the sheer killing power of the explosives. However, he soon noticed that some of the foxes still relatively intact had broken away from the main pack to pursue him, their rotting forms lunging forth from between the thick bushes in eager anticipation for the taste of his still living flesh whilst the rest of the pack continued on their charge towards the last remaining members of Alpha and Beta squad still on the trail.

Years ago, he would have probably stalled for a few seconds to decide whether or not to help them out from whatever sense of comradeship and teamwork he had, since he didn't enjoy the thoughts of his colleagues dying and had a small feeling of hope that they would survive. However, even back then when he allowed a few moments to dwell on his thoughts about the mission and the lives of his comrade, he always came to the same conclusion, back to the one thing that had never failed him or ignored him in the past, the one thing that had protected him in the past and got him where he was today, in both his own life back in New York and with his career in Umbrella's inner-workings.

_The mission is the highest priority here. Survivals their responsibility, not mine. It's all up to them._

Hunk hurried through the woods as fast as he could, ignoring the burning pain in his tiring legs and the large ache he felt in his lungs that screamed for a deep breath of air, pumping his arms hard in his dash through the woods in what he hoped was the direction of the cabin. Occasionally, he had either tripped on a tree root or slipped on some mud during his escape and had been afraid that he would fall down onto the ground, allowing the infected foxes to catch up to him, but he managed to right himself before he fell to the floor and picked up the pace to run for the cabin, the foxes still behind him only by a few meters.

Several minutes had passed by and he still couldn't find any sign of the cabin in the endless blur of the forest that flew past him, all of the foliage and vegetation he passed through looking about as similar as the one he passed before, and he gradually felt his limbs grow tired on him, feeling the fatigue press down hard on his sore body and threatening to force him to stop for any moment of rest. But, his mind refused to succumb to his body's cries for rest and continued to force him onward through the woods, his imagination actually telling him that he could smell the stinking fetid flesh of the rotting animals behind him, hear their gnashing teeth that snapped behind him as they closed the distance between them, making him run ever faster that his muscles were on fire and his breathing had become hoarse in his windpipe.

He continued running through the woods for several more fleeting minutes, chased by the savage infected behind him, stumbling across uneven soil and dodging past large trees growing around him, his body resisting his mind to keep going and slowing down in fatigue to persuade him to stop for rest, the foxes drawing nearer by the second to bite him as he felt himself draw closer and closer to collapsing-

-but he soon noticed a bright source of light shine off in the trees, a tiny speck of white that glowed against the green tint of his night-vision and grew larger as he kept running forward, indicating that he was heading in the direction towards it.

_There it is._

Feeling his body become energized by the sight of that single speck in the darkness of the thick branches, he pushed himself off into a mad dash towards it, his mind renewed by the sight of that illumination in the forest and the prospects that it brought forward to him, gaining more speed and leaving the foxes further behind him, shoving through bushes and leaping around trees in hopes to reach the safe haven beyond. Once he reached that place, he could rest for some time, take stock of his remaining ammunition, check over his weapons for damage and make a new plan to take in everything that had happened, to figure what he was to do next and how he was to finish the mission quickly before the shit really hit the fan. And if he was lucky enough, maybe Dubois would still be there and he could get some answers from him.

He ran faster than he probably ever had in his life and soon drew close enough that he could distinguish the area that lay ahead of him at the edge of the tree-line; the cabin itself was a small one story building that sat in a muddy clearing at the base of the mountain range, the light itself shining from between the planks of wood that had been hastily nailed across the windows inside the small house, a large crook flowing nearby in a nearby rock pool amongst the rocks to the right of the cabin by a tiny tool shed, a waterfall roaring down from high up in the cracks of the mountains cliff faces and splashing into the crook, giving off a faint hiss of water vapor from the impact on the surface.

Seeing the small structure up ahead of him, Hunk pushed himself farther and rushed through the woods towards the edge of the trees, bounding over a fallen log that lay in his way and leaped out onto the clearing, sliding a few inches across the slippery mud as he fought to keep his balance on the wet clearing, pinwheeling his arms to keep him from falling over onto the ground, the foxes leaping forth from the trees behind him, but he quickly regained his balance and dashed up to the front porch of the cabin, grasping a tight hold of the handle and shoving hard against the door-

-but the door refused to budge, hardly rattling in its frame against the force he applied to it, despite how many times he shoved against it.

"Shit!" Hunk cursed, turning around to see the foxes charging towards him across the clearing.

He could break down the door with a few ample kicks and shoulder-rams to its hinges, but he didn't know how securely it was locked or whether there was anything blocking it from the other side, so it would probably take longer to open it anyway and it would give the foxes enough time to catch him.

Which left him with one option.

Taking aim at the first fox, he fired a three-round burst and caught it directly in its eye, sending it to the ground with a gurgling yelp, the snarls of its siblings reaching a fever pitch at the thrill of the chase as he switched targets to the next one. After several quick shots, most blasting through their skulls or hitting them in the chest, he had downed the small group of foxes that had been chasing him, their rotting forms giving off small spasms as their unnatural life seeped out of them amongst the puddles of blood that stained the mud beneath them until they settled down silently on the ground in death.

"Don't move," a voice ordered sternly from behind him before he could do anything, followed by the cold metal of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

Hunk silently cursed under his breath, scolding himself for making the foolish mistake of letting his guard down for those tiny seconds after the gunfight, letting whoever it was behind him get the drop on him, and slowly raised his hands above his head, holding his rifle lightly in his right hand, making no sudden moves that might antagonize the person holding the gun to his head. He had to wait for the chance to take the gun away from the person when he least expected it if he wanted to get out of the situation alive.

"Place the gun at your feet," the man ordered, pressing the gun harder against his head. "Slowly. And don't try anything."

Slowly, Hunk lowered himself into a crouch, his hands still raised to keep the man behind him calm, and gently placed the rifle on the floor, ignoring the force applied to his head by the gun pressed against it, keeping his mind calm so as to ensure he didn't anger the guy behind him enough to shoot him yet alert for the slightest chance to get the drop on him.

"Good man. Now, take off the shotgun and place it beside the rifle, along with your pistol and grenades. Do anything funny, your cranium shall be immediately and rather inadequately fitted with a new air-conditioning system," the man ordered, his voice seeming to waver slightly.

Hunk eyes narrowed sharply behind his visor. From the way that the man's voice sounded to him, it seemed the person was particularly unhinged and devoid from reality at the moment, which meant he would have no qualms shooting him should he decide it necessary. Or if he felt like doing it just for personal amusement.

_Just play along. Don't give him a reason to shoot you. Wait for the moment then take it, not before._

Keeping held out in front of him to show he wasn't up to anything, Hunk brought his other hand over his back and pulled the shotgun from behind him, holding it by the barrel with the chamber pointed away from both of them, then gently placed it on the floor by his rifle before he went to work on his belt, his hands slowly brought onto his belt buckle and pressing down on the lock catches-

-when suddenly, the sharp crack of gunfire sounded off nearby, followed by the rapid flutter of birds taking to the skies, their screeching cries echoing on the breeze.

Looking up sharply, Hunk saw small flashes of muzzle fire off in the trees to his right, in the direction of the west and again back in the direction Hunk had came from when he was being chased by the infected foxes, followed by the shouts of living human beings, rough authorative voices barking out orders to other people over the _ratatattatat_ machinegun fire. Some of the squad members had made it!

However, the gunfire had also drawn away the attention of the man holding him hostage, his gaze having been shifted towards the fighting in the woods and the gun was lowered slightly from the back of his head, thus granting him the opening he needed to escape.

Placing his hands firmly on the ground in front of him beside his weaponry, he balanced all of his weight upon his biceps, ignoring the brief flash of pain that seared into his muscles, then swung himself in an 180 degree spin on his hands, with his left leg outstretched across the floor. He heard a loud grunt of surprise and pain as the man behind him was literally swept off his feet, Hunk's boot catching him hard behind his knees and collapsing him to the floor with a hollow thud, the pistol flying from his hands and sliding across the porch into the bushes sitting beside the house. Immediately after finishing his spin, Hunk snatched up his weapons from where he had placed and leaped at the man who was still sprawled on the floor, standing over him menacingly with his rifle pointed directly at the man's face and his boot pressing him down hard on his chest, pinning him to the floor of the porch as he regarded him with a stern expression.

The man looked to be about early to mid-thirties, although judging by the way he looked, he seemed to be probably at least a decade older than his true age, what with how dangerously thin his body was, the way his veins stuck out from beneath the skin of his frail arms and that he was unable to move Hunk off of his body even with all his strength, despite the fact that Hunk was barely applying any weight to him at all. Even through his visor, Hunk could easily see the dark bags that were hovering below his eyes, his sickly pale skin, his sunken cheeks, his bleeding lips and unkempt black hair that looked like a crude bird's nest that had developed from severe insomnia. His clothes were tattered, ripped and caked with wet mud, the once white lab coat having become a dirty ragged piece of cloth, indicating that he had been running through the forest for possibly the entire time the mission had started and had obviously taken some falls on the ground as well, probably from being chased by those foxes he had encountered earlier. In fact, Hunk could see a spot of blood staining the inside of his shirt collar, which meant he must have been hurt sometime in his trek through the woodland,; and judging by the dark scab that was forming on the side of his head, it was most likely from crashing that car back on the trail, since there had been some blood on the steering wheel from where a person must have hit their head.

_Guess he was smart enough to stay alive,_ his mind quipped at him as he took his foot of the man's chest and hauled him up the collar with one hand, keeping the rifle level at his head after slinging the shotgun over his back.

"You're the head researcher on the Nemesis Project, Doctor Dubois, right?" Hunk questioned coldly.

The man's eyes narrowed sharply in response, a look of smug contempt crossing his features. "And you're from Umbrella's Special Forces, then. You've taken your time, haven't you?" he stated sarcastically.

Hunk merely shrugged. "That's a yes then." He then shoved the man through the open doorway and stepped after him, keeping his gun trained on him. "Dr Dubois, I have been ordered to bring you back to the 6th European Laboratories by Umbrella, so I want your co-operation on this matter if you want to escape here alive."

Dubois scoffed, a spiteful sneer breaking out on his thin, cracked and bleeding lips. "And hoding me hostage is your idea of a diplomatic resolution, is it?"

Hunk stepped forward briskly and jammed his rifle beneath his chin, staring full force into his bloodshot eyes. "They also told me I have the authorization to eliminate you if you prove to be troublesome, so I think you better be careful on pissing me off if you want your brains still inside that egghead of yours."

Dubois' sneer grew wider. "And how shall we leave here, then? Well, Mr Macho?"

Hunk lowered his weapon and tapped his head-set radio. "I'll call in an evac once we have taken out the Nemesis," he answered calmly.

Dubois let out a deep, humourless cackle at his answer, his entire face lighting up with an incredible laughter, bloody spittle flying from his lips andd his cheeks flushing bright red against his deathly complexion. "Kill the Nemesis!?! You truly a barbaric fool, aren't you!?! That creature is the single most powerful BOW in the history of the corporation and our T-Virus research; a true super-soldier in combat, one with the abilities required to battle all varieties of foes, to survive any injuries inflicted upon it and to obey every order it has been given to the letter. That creature is the greatests accomplish in Umbrella's entire conglomerate. MY greatest accomplishment!!" he rambled ecstatically, his voice rising a few pitches. He then pointed an accusing finger at Hunk, a enfuriated scowl on his lips, the blood pouring freely over his chin and dripping onto the wooden floor. "And you, in your ignorance and stupidity, believe YOU can KILL IT!?! A neanderthalic gait such as yourself couldn't een grasp the concept of such a trait! It's so idiotic, it's bloody hilarious!!!" he stated in excitement, laughing insanely to spite Hunk and rub the insults in further.

Hunk simply regarded hims coldly for a few seconds, watching the man laugh to himself until his laughter became high pitched wheezy noises and he was forced to clutch his chest as he struggled to laugh any further, then shook his head pitifully at the man and walked away from the man out onto the porch. The man was too far gone in his obsessional joy and adoration towards his work for him to be reasoned with, his eyes filled with intense mirth and glee towards what he had created whilst his face was alight with the amusement he was seeming to find at Hunk's determination to stop the Nemesis. Either way, he couldn't give a shit about the man's obsessions, at least if he didn't do anything to compromise Umbrella or the mission.

Stepping out onto the porch, Hunk switched on his radio and placed his hand over the head-set, facing towards the flashes of gunfire off in the distant shadows of the forest.

"This is Alpha-4. If anyone is out there, respond immediately. Over," he ordered sharply.

Only the white noise of static came back through to him.

"To all surviving USF members, this is Alpha-4. If you are out there, respond immediately. Over."

At first, the only response he received was static, but then a high pitched whistling noise screeched over the radio, causing him to flinch as a sharp jab of pain flickered in his ears from the noise as it reveberated through his ear canal, and a voice answered over the static.

"This is Delta-3. I repeat, this is Delta-3! Alpha-4, are you still there?" Over," the voice asked nervously.

Hunk felt a small sense of relief at the sound of the soldier's voice, but kept it quiet and held up his professionalism, since this was still the middle of a mission and he couldn't lose sight of the situation or drop his guard; after all, he had already been held hostage once by Dubois for dropping his guard and if he did it again, the outcome would most likely not be a good one.

"I'm here, soldier. What's your location? Over."

"Currently heading eastwards from the main highway out of the mountains and towards the cabin at the crook. Over."

Hunk's spirits lifted slightly. "I am currently holed up at the cabin with Dubois; he's alive and well, but the rest of my squad are...unaccounted for. How are things on your end? Over."

The soldier stopped running through the woods, the faint crunch of grass underfoot growing quiet and replaced by harsh wheezy gasps of breath that hissed over the radio. "I...I think I am the only still alive. That Nemesis....Jesus, we didn't stand a chance against the thing. It killed everyone...and we didn't even faze it," Delta-3 declared, his voice wavering in fear and shock at the battle he had been involved in earlier.

Hunk cursed silently under his breath. If he was the only survivor from Delta and Charlie squads, then their chances were still pretty much around the negative/zero area since two soldiers against one of Umbrella's most powerful BOWs would hardly be a battle. More of a fultile skirmish.

_Stop acting so pessimistic! Just stay calm and think! First of all, gather intelligence on your foe and find out all you can about it!!_

At that thought, Hunk snapped his gaze up towards Dubois back inside the house, who had finally stopped laughing to himself and was sitting down on the floor of one of the rooms against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and his chin resting on top of his curled legs, his gaze stared blankly as his lips muttered silently to himself in words he couldn't hear, obviously absorbed in whatever he deemed important.

Maybe they had a chance after all to complete the mission; a minute one at best but a chance nonetheless. After all, according to McVarian's mission briefing back on the helicopter, Dubois was the head researcher assigned to work on the Nemesis BOW and had been involved in the project since it had been started, so if anyone had any sort of information that could be used to take down the Nemesis for them, it was him. And hopefully, those gunfire sounding off in the woods would probably be more survivors from the USF, alive and uninfected, along with a considerable amount of ammunition left that they could use to stop the Nemesis should...WHEN it appeared again.

"Alpha-4? Are you still there?" Delta-3 asked timidly, his tiny voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

Hunk looked away from Dubois and turned back to look out towards the trees surrounding the clearing, watching the flashes of gunfire draw closer towards the clearing and the loud sharp bark of orders grew louder to his ears.

He rose his hand back up to his head-set. "I'm here. Delta-3, haul ass on the double and get over to the cabin as soon as you can; we can hold up here for the time being and plot our next move. And be careful, there are some infected wildlife in the local area nearby."

"Roger that," Delta-3 replied enthusiastically. "And I have some good news too. I have managed to get my hands on a grenade launcher and the Prototype Linear Launcher, along with the experimental grenade ammunition, all fully loaded and ready for use. I'm bringing them with me to your position right now, Alpha-4. ETA five minutes. Out." Then the radio shut off with a hint of static.

A small grin crept upon Hunk's face from underneath his visor, his eyes lightening up for a few seconds in triumph before his facial expression returned to the one of extreme professionalism and detachment he always displayed on his missions. If Delta-3 did have all of the prototype weapons intact and fully loaded with him, then their chances of stopping the Nemesis would be greatly increased since, despite whatever little information he had on the BOW itself, he knew that the grade of weaponry that had been assigned to them on the mission would be more than enough to take out the Nemesis should they hit it in any vital area, or wound it significantly enough that they could capture it for the corporation.

Abruptly, he snapped around to the cabin and strolled through the door of the cabin, slamming it shut behind him and approached Dubois still seated in the single room of the cabin, dropping to a crouch in front of the man and looking him square in the face, his eyes narrowed into slits behind his visor and his lips formed a tight frown on his face.

_Time for some Q&A with the good doctor._

"I need information," Hunk stated roughly, hoping to get the frail scientist to open up by intimidating him since the man seemed barely able to run to the other side of the clearing without keeling over with exhaustion, let alone put up a fight with a Umbrella Special Forces trooper like him.

However, Dubois seemed to be a lot more prudent than he had expected. "Really?" he sneered contemptly.

"You and I both want out of here alive, relatively whole if we can help it. And most preferably without infection."

Dubois scoffed. "Thank you for stating the obvious."

"Then, if you want to get out of here alive, you are going to have to leave with me. And I am not leaving until I take care of my mission," Hunk replied coldly.

Dubois flashed a condescending grin at Hunk. "Well, good luck with that. I'll pass some words at your funeral procession, if my work hours aren't too hectic for it."

Hunk dropped his rifle and snatched up Dubois by his collar, hoisting him high in the air and shoving him hard against the wall. "Listen, you arrogant prick! We are dying out here and that little pet of yours is hunting us down one by one. And that infection it's carrying in its body is spreading around the area as well, creating more of those monsters that have hounded us since we got here, which will continue to spread further if we don't do anything to stop it. Thus, you and I are stuck here until we take care of this mess, so I need all the help I can get to take down this thing quickly before it manages to escape again," he explained angrily.

Dubois' grin grew wider. "Why should it concern me?"

Hunk immediately drew his pistol and pressed it hard against the scientist's forward, the urge to shoot him growing stronger by the second. "Are you deaf or just stupid!?! We are not leaving until I kill the Nemesis and whats left of the infection in this forest!"

Dubois chuckled. "I think I should ask that question of you as well. Do you honestly think you can fight against my living God? Do you really hold any hope in that thick skull of yours that you can destroy it? If you do, then you are more idiotic than Umbrella gives you credit for."

Hunk pressed the pistol harder on his forehead, forcing his head to rest uncomfortably on the wall. "That's why you are going to tell me how to kill it," he replied in a dark tone of voice, leaving no room for doubt.

Dubois simply shook his head. "What it must be like to be ignorant; maybe it is blissful as the saying goes. I told you before already, that BOW is the greatest creation in the history of Umbrella's research with the Tyrant-Virus; it surpasses even the new T-103 model in the Tyrant Project," he stated, his voice filled with pride and some kind of twisted admiration. Or affection.

Hunk had been ready to pummel the guy into submission to get some answers out of him, feeling his irritation with the man gradually eat away at his cool demeanor, but when Dubois had finished speaking, he noticed that the scientist's eyes were staring back at him blankly, as if looking off psat him into the distance to see the monster he had created, his gaze vacant and unfocused on him, which meant that he was deep in thought about something else entirely. Thus, he realized that Dubois was again lost in his own obsession, marvelling at his work and ignoring Hunk at the same time, since Hunk had already noticed the signs several times over on the faces of the research staff on Rockfort.

Suddenly, a thought popped into his head, jogged by a short memory of watching the scientists at Rockfort talk amongst each other about their work and research projects during their breaks in the cafeteria, noticing the similar expressions they wore on their faces and the way their mouths ran off in a tangent before their common sense had a chance to catch up with them.

_Get him talking. If he's lost in his obsession, het him to start blabbing about his work and maybe he'll say something you can use._

"What makes the Nemesis so special to the other BOWs?" he asked, phrasing his questions to gently push the man for answers.

"It is the pinnacle of Umbrella's biological weaponry development and my life's work, the culmination of two different projects merged together to form the single and greatest machine of war. It has the Tyrant's incredible combat abilities, impervious resistance to all forms of injuries, unstoppable agility and ruthless rage, which alone make it a formidable BOW for us to develop, but it also possesses the one thing that so diminished all else we have created, the one thing that truly matters. The one thing that turly marks it as a superior being in this world," he explained hastily, as if he was in desperate need to brag out his creation, his obsessional behavior still burning strong in his gaze.

"And that is?" Hunk pressed, gently lowering him to the floor.

"Intelligence!!" Dubois blurted ecsatically. "Intelligence! The ability to think! It has the potential to understand our orders, to allow the corporation to control it through its enhanced mind-power and brains structure via the link it has with the White Queen, to interpret any immediate actions on how to achieve the objectives we assign it and to be able to use any weapons that we personally It is what we have aspired to achieve from the very beginning. And I am the one who made it possible!"

Hunk nodded slowly, placing Dubois back down on the floor and crouching down in front of the man, keeping his patience as he listened to the man ramble on about his project with that same blind obsessional admiration that all the scientists he had seen did. "How did you accomplish this?"

"By inserting the NE-Alpha parasites I had created directly into the spinal cord of the newly developed T-103 Tyrant models that the Sheena Island facilities had produced for Umbrella's BOW projects. To begin with, I had originally developed the NE-Alpha parasites on par with the Executive Board's request to find a way of preserving the intellect of the Tyrant class BOWs, due to the failures that had been shown in the T-001 and T-002 models, namely their complete inability to understand or obey complex orders from the White Queen," Dubois explained, still lost in his own little world.

Hunk sat back on his heels and regarded the man impassively, watching im carefully for any signs of trouble as his current behaviour did slightly unnerve, since he hadn't come out of it yet.

"We had tried numerous methods to preserve the Tyrant's brain cells from the necrotic effects of the Tyrant-Virus, but none of them were adequate to keep their intelligence at satisfactory levels, thus I proposed a new venture with parasitic organisms. For your edification, parasites have the ability to invade a specific part of the host's body via their nervous system and control them to a specific function that they are known to manipulate from extensive study. In conclusion, I decided to invoke my efforts into creating an parasitic organism via the T-Virus, the hormonal substance responsible for creating the Tyrant and the dominant genetic traits in other parasitic organisms in Africa which could be directly implanted into the brain of a Tyrant for it to control the BOW through its nervous system whilst the parasite uses its chemical secretions to protect its brain cells against the necrotic effects of the T-Virus, thus providing it with a suitable intelligence to understand any orders designated to it from the White Queen," Dubois continued fervently, his tone growing lighter as he spoke onwards.

"And you created the NE-Alpha parasites and the Nemesis itself from this method," Hunk finished.

Dubois nodded ecstatically, his expression bright with triumphant mirth, laughing quietly to himself in snickering gasps, sounding very much like a hyperactive child who had successfully stolen a cookie from the jar without being caught.

"But, if the possibility of the creature going rogue was to present itself in a dire situation, how would we take the thing out?" he asked, doing his best to keep the question as civil as possible so as not to encourage his sheer fanatical dedication to his work.

Luckily though, Dubois didn't sense any problems with the question and went to answer the question again, despite his tone growing drearier from some form of shame. Or pain. Or worry. "Well, as I have stated before, this creature has incredible combat ability, enhanced physical properties, extreme resilience to all forms of injury and has the potential to use its intellect to determine how best to take out all high-level threats to it, so taking it head on is potentially suicide. In addition, due to the fact that the NE-T viral strain that the NE-Alpha parasite is created from has been developed from the Tyrant-Virus strain itself, it also has the ability to regenerate its body to heal any wound it sustains that can be inflicted upon it, hence its extreme resilience to all attacks one can use against it, so chances of defeating are further decreased for any organism it comes across."

"But?" Hunk pressed.

Dubois took in a deep shaky breath and focused back on Hunk's face, his gaze hardened into something of scientific professionalism. "But, there is a flaw in the Nemesis, one that we had found out a few years back, during the time when our main focus was on Tyrant production. You see, since the NE-T viral strain was created from the original Tyrant-Virus that Birkin had developed, this particular strain has inherited some of the original's beneficial traits, such as it's regenerative abilities and incredible resistance to all forms of injury. However, there still exists the problems with the detrimental effects that the T-Virus is known to possess which could effect the BOW's performance, namely the necrotic effects the virus can have on the host and the rather violent mutations that could otherwise cripple the host if let to run rampant with the infection as it spreads."

"But you had found a way to ensure that the viral strain wouldn't run rampant in the Nemesis and control its necrotic effects to prevent it from damaging the BOW to a great extent," Hunk finished, pulling out his pistol and began checking it over, listening with one ear to Dubois explanations.

"Exactly," Dubois concurred. "This was due to a specific hormone that Birkin had discovered in the brains of Tyrant hosts which could be used to hep control the T-Virus' infection and mutation in hosts via using it to supply enough energy to the virus cells for it to mutate the host into a stronger host and adapt the virus into the host's body without having to bypass any of its vital systems to preserve energy to run the necessary parts of the brain to keep the host alive, whilst it acts as a buffer towards the necrotic effects and mutational properties of the virus. Additionally, since the NE-Alpha parasite was designed to provide protection towards the host's brain cells from the necrotic effects that come with the T-Virus' mutations, the chemical secretions that the parasite diffuses into the brain also helped to provide enough energy for the virus to run the whole brain and prevent the virus from causing any necrotic damage to the brain cells which could inevitably reduce its intelligence, due to the fact that the hormone cannot provide a sufficient amount of energy by itself to control the virus' mutational properties throughout the entire body, hence why the previous Tyrant models developed at the Arklay facilities were deemed a substantial failure."

Hunk nodded, doing his best to keep up with what Dubois was saying with his 'neanderthalic perception' as the scientists normally described the soldiers or assigned security around them. "Although, you still noticed that there was a flaw in the Nemesis?" he asked.

Dubois nodded gloomily, his head slumping against his chest and his eyes staring down blankly at the floor. "It is mainly down to the problems of the Nemesis regenerative abilities in response to injury and the T-Virus unpredictable mutational properties. If the Nemesis has been injured during a battle, it will naturally use its regeneration to heal itself and remove the wound without much trouble because it would only need to sacrifice a small amount of energy to promote the strain's regenerative abilities without any danger of letting the mutations run rampant or causing any necrotic damage to any vital area of the BOW."

Hunk understood where he was going. "But if it sustains a rather large wound or any of its vital systems are damaged badly, it has to use up more energy to regenerate the wound, which in turn lets the mutations run rampant."

"Yes. We had already noticed this in the previous test subjects for the NE-Alpha parasites, at least before they had died. As you just said, if the Nemesis sustains a great wound to any vital area in its body, it would be forced to use a large amount of its bio-chemical energy to support its body's natural regenerative abilities in healing the wound fully. But, due to the extent of the wound and the energy needed to regenerate it, the Nemesis would be forced to divert some of the energy it requires from the other functions in its body, thus allowing the mutational properties of the NE-T viral strain to run rampant, due to the lack of energy being supplied to the hormonal substance that is keeping the virus under control. Additionally, since the parasite's activities rely on this energy in preserving its brain cells to keep its intelligence to a satisfactory level and the hormonal substance that keeps the virus in check is part of its own anatomy, the parasite itself would have to sacrifice some of its own energy to support the regeneration, which would inevitably cause cerebral necrosis in the BOW's brain as the parasite begins to suffer from the mutations also," Dubois explained, laying his head down on his knees and wrapping his hands around his legs.

After checking over his pistol, Hunk placed it back in its holster clipped to his leg and pulled out his shotgun from his back, examining it for any damage or jams that could be deadly in a firefight, especially when Nemesis would appear again.

"In conclusion," Dubois continued, oblivious to Hunk's silence, "these mutations prove detrimental towards the health of the BOW because it alters its form so drastically that it begins to cause severe anomalies in both itself and the parasite that resides inside it, due to the fact that the NE-Alpha parasites are extremely fragile and they need to form a satisfactory attachment to the host's genetic structure whilst implanted in the body when it is protecting the brain from the necrotic effects of the virus as the viral strain mutates both the host and parasite to become the BOW that you have witnessed earlier. However, if the mutations continue further, the parasite and the host would begin to suffer a massive cellular breakdown which would result in the parasite's death since it would be unable to keep itself alive from the rampant mitosis the mutations will induce in it, the host following soon after when its brain becomes too degraded to sustain it. This would naturally happen for the Nemesis as well although I expect that its lifespan would be greatly improved due to its substantially superior form."

Hunk, after finishing inspecting his shotgun, slung his weapon back over his back and began taking inventory of his remaining ammunition, a plan already forming in his head. From what he could find out in Dubois' scientific explanations and ramblings, the Nemesis could only be killed or rendered incapacitated by wounding it greatly that the infection it has would weaken it by causing it to mutate further that it might not be able to keep itself alive. That might have provided him with a good chance of taking the thing down and accomplishing the mission, except the only way he could take it down was to wound it severely and with what he had on him at the moment probably wouldn't do much damage at all; currently, he still had all of his weapons still on him, all fully-loaded and functioning properly, and the ammunition he had been provided with before landing in the forest, but he had used up all of the spare clips for his assault rifle and was down to probably half the rounds left in his last clip loaded in he rifle, and he had already used up one grenade to escape from the foxes back at the trail, so he wasn't sure whether his current arsenal might cause any damage to the Nemesis unless he hit some weakpoint it possessed.

Although, if any of the surviving USF members out in the woods managed to reach the cabin, the chances of defeating the Nemesis may be increased, especially if they used some of the new prototype weapons on it and managed to give the BOW a good blow to a rather sensitive spot, as the remaining Delta member claimed he had managed to secure them during the attack. And luckily enough, the one man who knew everything there was to know about the Nemesis, including any weakpoints it might possess, was currently sitting down beside him lost in his own world, obviously marveling at his own creation or thinking about something that he didn't wish to share; Hunk cleared his throat to get the man's attention, already forming a question in his mind on how to ask for more information he needed.

_You already have gotten the most important detail needed for this op. Better ask him for anything else that could be useful._

"Would you happen to now any particular areas that could promote these rapid mutational effects if damaged?" he asked politely, clipping his ammunition back on his person.

"Apart from its internal organs, the only possible weakpoint that could be considered a rather critical place to attack would be the parasite, naturally," he replied.

"Where exactly?"

"The base of the spine."

Hunk nodded grimly, standing up and walking towards the door. He had to be ready for when the remaining USF troopers showed up outside or when the Nemesis showed up again.

"It's funny," Dubois remarked abruptly from where he sat by the wall.

Hunk looked back at Dubois and regarded him with an impassive expression, wondering what he was babbling about again as the man continued to stare at the opposite wall, his eyes blank and unfocused, his mind obviously still lost in its own world.

"We successfully managed to create a BOW that Umbrella had so insisted upon from the minute we joined this research endeavor, but we in fact still finished up with more flaws that inevitably caused this incident to happen. I thought that by combining the hormone with the NE-Alpha's cranial-chemical secretions we might be able to find a way of creating a suitable method of producing adequate Tyrant BOWs without having to use any of the limited parasitic organisms we had or potential Tyrant hosts we could find," Dubois muttered somberly, his tone quiet and gloomy as it was directed towards himself, as if he were confessing his sins at a church.

He then looked up at Hunk sharply, a smirk alight with some form of twisted enjoyment on his face. "And we did. It turned out my method worked exponentially well; the parasite had preserved enough of the BOWs intelligence to such a satisfactory level that it would be able to understand orders the corporation give to it. However, it seems to have worked too well. The NE-Alpha's protection against the necrotic effects of the viral strain must have preserved a lot more of the brain structure of the host than we first anticipated, so it still retains some form of emotion and independent thought for itself hence why it had managed to make its escape into the wilderness since we hadn't yet installed the computer chip into the Nemesis for the White Queen to control it."

His smirk soon grew into a full-fledged smile, the emotion behind it too morbid and obscene for Hunk's taste. "Can you imagine how that must feel? To be able to still hold something of your original personality or humanity enough for you to be aware of what you are, what you have become and what you are capable of now that you have been granted such an astounding gift. It must be an incredible revelation and experience for one to use such power that has been so generously granted to you," Dubois declared in an awe-inspired tone, his eyes filled with wonder at such a prospect.

When Dubois had finished speaking and had gone back to staring down at the floor, muttering quietly to himself under his breath, Hunk turned away from him and strolled down the corridor towards the porch, swinging open the door and standing watch on the wooden porch with his rifle drawn, waiting for the surviving members of the USF to rendezvous at the cabin, switching on his radio to catch any urgent calls that would be sent to him.

Alone on the porch, gazing at the trees with a fixed and alert gaze for any signs of possible infected life or the Nemesis, his ears listening intently for any sounds amongst the eerie atmosphere of wood and plants whilst he kept some slight attention towards the whistling radio that matched the pitch of the breeze that blew against the canopy of branches and rippled along the surface of the water, Hunk calmly waited for several minutes, his finger lightly tapping on the trigger of his rifle and hands clenched tightly around the grip, staring out into the vast shadows that stretched along the trees from the moonlight shining in the clear sky above, ignoring the chill running up his back.

However, part of Hunk's conscious rang out into his mind, echoing what had Dubois had said to him earlier about what had happened to the Nemesis, what had made it gone rogue, and he let out a small shiver at the point the delusional man had made, more of disgust at such a thing rather than from the feel of the cold. Although he knew that such information about how the Nemesis was able to go rogue in the first place would obviously be of great use and benefit to Umbrella's research in allowing to perfect a method to keep any other Nemesis class, he couldn't simply help but feel minutely revolted at what such an experience must be like for anyone to be put in that kind of position.

For someone to still be relatively alive during such a process, to be aware of what pain and trauma you were suffering under the blade of a scientist's scalpel, to feel your body change into something you couldn't even dream of and to endure the harsh reality that it was irreversible, that you won't become human again as the living...thing implanted in you spread to your brain and twisted your mind into an entirely new form.

That must be an embodiment of Hell itself.

_The only thing he should want is death. It's the only sense of freedom and peace one could get._

Suddenly, a loud crack of gunfire echoed out near the edge of clearing, causing Hunk to snap out of his thoughts and glance up sharply towards the tree line-

-where he noticed several flashes from muzzle-fire shine as a small glimpse in the woods, illuminating the area around it to reveal vague forms that held the resemblance of people running towards him, firing back at something that looked like an animal (probably more foxes), in both the directions to the main highway out of the sector and the trail back a few yards in the trees, before the lights faded into darkness following the sounds of gunfire moments before.

Hunk raised his weapon towards the flashes of light and sounds of gunfire, watching them sternly as the shapes drew closer towards him, his resolve to finish the mission and professionalism brought on by years of training returning to him, subduing whatever thoughts he had.

He could worry about his own personal opinions of the corporation's test subjects for their experiments at a different time, preferably one where he was back at base doing training or relaxing after a hard mission, but he now had a job to finish and he was going to get it done like he always did before. The mission takes top priority over everything else; sticking with that principle had ensured he didn't fail a mission and it wouldn't fail him now.

And besides, he would never even consider the idea of betraying Umbrella, no matter what they had done or were responsible for, not after what they had made him, what they had done for him and what they had granted him. He owed them too much for a lot of things to ever betray them for the chances he had received.

Gradually, the sounds of the gunfire grew louder as the muzzle flashes came closer to the cabin, followed by orders being shouted and desperate exclamations passed between the people that approached in their hasty run from the infected chasing them-

-and to the western edge of the trail, one person, dressed in the uniform of a USF trooper, leaped into the clearing and turned towards the cabin, picking up speed as he ran across the clearing, occasionally slipping in the mud yet managing to catch his balance before he fell over, the large stocky weapons on his back bouncing along with his rapidly pumping arms. Hunk felt slightly amazed that the soldier was able to still be running for so long whilst being encumbered by the combined weight of all the weapons he was carrying, but then again, in life-and-death situations, people were easily capable of doing such things, especially when under the 'combat-high' that came with the adrenaline pounding in their blood

Three more soldiers soon appeared from the trees, directly in front of Hunk to the south of the clearing, firing back at what was chasing them for a few seconds before they spun and dashed for the cabin-

-and at least three infected foxes pounced from the trees behind them in pursuit, branches and small leaves stuck to their slimy decaying flesh, bloody drool dripping from their snarling jaws and gnashing teeth.

"Move!! Run!! Get inside!!" one of them yelled, firing behind him at the foxes, his shot hitting an infected in the kneecap and dropping it with a loud crack, the dismembered limb falling to the floor besides its owner.

Hunk stepped to the side, partly to allow the other soldiers to pass into the cabin and to get a clear shot at the foxes chasing them, took aim and fired, the round smacking one in the chest and knocking it to the dirt. He quickly changed targets and fired at the last remaining fox, hitting it directly through its left eye and sending its dead weight to the ground like a stone-

-but three more foxes emerged from the trees and charged towards them, panting wildly in hunger and rage that shone in their eyes. Hunk snapped his rifle towards one of them and fired, the round blowing out a leg and knocking it to the ground in front of its friends, causing one to trip over it as they collided with each other once the injured one fell to the ground in front of the other. But the last remaining fox continued its charge, oblivious to its friends and closed the gap between itself and the cabin, its intently ravenous gaze fixed on him.

Hunk hastily switched his target and fired at the fox, the round catching it in the head and downing it with a small yelp as a shower of gore erupted from the base of its neck-

-and he noticed that the foxes which had fallen upon the floor were getting up and charging back at him, the ones who were missing limbs crawling forward on their remaining legs to reach him-

-and five more foxes leaped out from the trees, joining in the charge at the cabin where all the soldiers were barging inside to safety, all of them storming towards the cabin on rotting limbs, dripping fangs glinting menacingly in the moonlight.

"Ah shit!!" Hunk cursed angrily, firing off one last shot at the pack before he turn and ran back inside, shoving the soldiers roughly through the doorway into the hallway of the cabin and barging in himself behind them. He quickly spun around and pushed the door to close on the foxes that dashed for the opening, nearly bringing it fully shut-

-when one of the foxes pounced forward, jaws wide open and dripping with infected saliva, eager to sink its fangs into any piece of human flesh it could find, and stuck its head in the gap between the door and the frame, jamming it open. It snarled at Hunk and the soldiers, struggling wildly to squeeze through the gap as Hunk applied pressure on the other side, attempting to force it shut against the animal.

"Need some help here!!" he shouted to the soldiers behind him.

One of the soldiers hurried forward and shoved hard against the door beside Hunk, pushing it back on the animal's head that still stuck inside the door whilst keeping his legs out of reach of the gnashing fangs that snapped at him. The door slowly budged closer to the gap, crushing the thing's neck with awful grinding and crunching noises as flesh tore away from its decaying neck, sticking to the latch and wooden edge in flaky chunks, and the bones slowly crushed down inside its neck, splintering cracks emanating from the fox's neck, the soldiers grunting and cursing as they pushed the door further, hoping to get it shut-

-until the fox let out a yelp and drew its head back, the door slamming shut behind it. Hastily, Hunk flipped all the locks in place with a rapid series of light clicks and drew back from the door, watching the door rattle in its frame when a fox jumped at it to force it open, the sturdy piece of wood shuddering briefly for a few seconds before it settled until the foxes tried again, the dull thump from the other side followed by the growling indicating the animals were getting annoyed. It lasted for another few minutes, Hunk and the other soldiers watching the door warily with their weapons raised, listening the rattling wood, thumps and bangs on the other side and the muffled growls behind it from the foxes assaulting the entrance, everyone watching with nervous tension and dread at the thought that they might breach the door and get inside-

-but the thumping and banging soon subsided, the door settling into its frame as the foxes stopped jumping against, their last attempts failing with a slight feeble scratching at the wood before they left and began circling around the small cabin, growling ominously in patience and hunger as they paced in the clearing, watching them with the rage-filled empty gaze of the infected dead.

Hunk watched the door for several more seconds, his weapon not raised at it yet not lowered to the floor either, waiting for the banging to start again and be ready should the door break under the force, listening to the soft growls and snarls outside from the infected that paced around the cabin, stalking them and waiting for an opening. But when no other attempt appeared in breaking down the door, he let out the deep breath he had been holding in during those tenseful seconds, his heart pounding in his chest and cold sweat running down his body underneath the full Kevlar armor he was wearing, and turned to look at the soldiers who were all standing in the hallway behind him, hunched over with their hands on knees, taking deep gasping breaths to fulfill the oxygen debt they had from their mad dash through the forest, their limbs threatening to collapse from over-exertion.

"Anyone here injured?" he demanded curtly, putting on as calm a tone as he could muster.

A shake of heads from everyone around him gave him the answer he had asked, and hoped, for.

"Damn man! We were almost killed out there. That was dumb luck we made it here!" one of the soldiers remarked, slumping against the wall of the corridor and sitting down on the floor, resting his weapon in front of him.

Another nodded slightly in response, holding most of his weight on his shotgun. "Yeah. Especially with those foxes and that...thing still out there," he replied grimly.

Delta-3, the one who had called him on the radio and was carrying all of the weapons from Umbrella's Weapons Development Department, cringed fearfully, vividly recalling what must have happened to his squad when they had ran into the Nemesis BOW earlier. "You ain't seen it yet. And believe me, you don't want to. That monster is unstoppable."

Hunk walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention, causing the man to jump at the touch and snap his head around to look at him, the relief that it was just another of his comrades visibly flooding through him from even behind his mask and visor.

"Are you holding up okay?" he asked sternly.

Delta-3 nodded, placing his hand over his chest to slow down his throbbing heart and took more deep breaths to calm his nerves. "I'm fine. Just a little tired from the run and shaken up by fighting against that monster out there."

Hunk then glanced up at the other soldiers. "How about you, guys? You all okay?"

"We're fine, Alpha-4," One of the soldiers replied from where he stood over by the doorway into the small kitchen on the eastern side of the crude hostel. "It's more than we could say for the rest of Alpha and Beta; we managed to take down most of the foxes and hold our position there for a few more minutes; then we started running low on ammo and the things just wouldn't stop coming. They over-ran us and we were forced to run for it, since we could barely defend ourselves any longer with our depleting ammo and the number of infected coming at us; we had made it a few yards from the trail until the foxes swarmed us." He lowered his head solemnly, the sadness and horror he was feeling right now choking the air around him. "Those that stayed behind didn't stand a chance. I think we're the only ones left."

Hunk simply nodded. "Are there any others that could have made it?" he asked, for the sake of asking rather than out providing a sense of comfort to them.

The soldier shook his head. "There were at least four more with us when we tried to escape, but the foxes caught up with some of them. The poor bastards went down screaming throughout the whole time; we tried to help but we knew it was too late once you'd been bitten and what happens soon after, so we kept on running for safety," he explained grimly. "Now all that's left of us is you, Delta-3, Alpha-9 and Beta-4," he stated, pointing at the soldier slumped against the wall in the hallway and then at the last remaining trooper who had walked into the lounge, looking around the cabin rooms warily as if he expected the walls to come alive or something to leap and attack him. He then pointed at himself. "I'm Alpha-6, by the way. Glad to see some humans still around here, at least still living."

"Hey, is he okay? He seems out of it," Beta-4 asked, glancing down at Dubois who was still seated against the wall and mumbling to himself.

Hunk waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about him. So long as he's no trouble to the mission, he can stay there and talk to himself for how long he likes."

Alpha-9 looked up sharply at that, the sharp gasp of breath he gave out enough to reveal how shocked and outraged he was at the mention of the mission. "Mission!?! We're dying out here and you only care about the mission!?! Is that why you fucked off and ran when we were all getting eaten!?!" he yelled harshly, his fists clenched and shaking violently at his sides as he attempted to keep his rage under control, glaring at Hunk full in the face, the anger he directed at him easy to see behind the tinted visor.

Hunk knew that he was angry that he had left them for dead back on the trail and took off towards the cabin without so much as offering a chance to help, thinking that he was an uncaring, self-caring and back stabbing coward that he was willing to abandon his comrades to death to save himself to complete the mission. Admittedly, most of that was true in a lot of sense but Hunk did care about his comrades, due to the similar circumstances they had and that they all served the same corporation in the same uniform for whatever reasons they had, that they were just as likely to be sent on any type of mission that may end with them being killed, and hoped they would at least escape the outbreaks or skirmishes they found themselves in alive and well, since he couldn't give a shit about whatever reputation he had amongst them for their deaths and his incredible survival skills to complete his mission, yet unlike them, he knew that he was an expendable asset like everything else Umbrella owned and he was only alive because he was still useful to them in protecting their research and ensuring nothing brought down any danger to them, and that he only survived his mission from his own guidance of priorities in that the mission came above everything, including the lives of his comrades.

And they would only survive by their own choices and skills along the mission as it was their responsibility, not his alone.

"Hey, buddy. Don't go snapping necks here-" Alpha-6 said, keeping his voice level, stepping up between him and Hunk.

"Fuck you!" Alpha-9 spat venomously. "And fuck Umbrella and all! We lost over thirty men already, wasted a shit load of bullets, are stuck in a cabin with a lunatic lab-rat, surrounded by undead freaks and hunted by a monster that is killing us off when it should be us killing IT! I say we call in evac and get the hell out of here!"

"And face Umbrella's wrath?" Hunk questioned stoically, staring back at the soldier's glare with an impassive stare. "Do you think they'd let you live if you fail?"

Alpha-9 recoiled at that statement, momentarily taken aback by the reasoning behind it, but his temper soon flared up again. "Why should they want us dead!?! What the fuck have we done that's any worse than them messing with this shit!? Who cares what they think!! If we can leave, then lets do the smart thing and leave this on their doorstep!" he declared rigidly.

Hunk shook his head. "Then you'd be dead by next month. Or an experiment for their research."

Alpha-9 reeled visibly in horror, his face growing pale behind his visor and his hands brought up in front as if he was trying to defend himself from Hunk. "W-wait...wait a minute. H..h...hold on there, man. Y-y-y...yo...you can't seriously think that..." he stammered in disbelief, slowly backing away from Hunk.

"We're expendable assets, soldier," Hunk stated coldly, walking towards him menacingly. "Tools to be used and thrown away by our employers. We are sent in on missions that we could die in. Or potentially worse than death. And they don't care for us, they don't care about you or me or Dubois or the others, unless of course you do your job. The only reason they want us is to obey their orders and accomplish our duties, at ANY cost."

"But that's...that's fucking murder! They can't do that. And if they even could, they wouldn't harm you; your their best man, Mr Death, the Human Unit Never Killed. You've done more shit than this ever since you were only a punk teen from NY street gangs being recruited by Umbrella and you have completed everything you've been sent to do, so why would they kill you?" Alpha-9 retorted, his back pushing against the wall and hands still held in front of him.

Hunk walked closer to the man until he was up close with him, his figure trapping him in a corner between the lounge and hallway, his face mere inches from the man's own face, watching him sternly with hardened eyes through the tinted visor of his mask as Alpha-9 shivered violently in fear, locked in place by the imposing stare and presence he cast off. "You don't get it. The only reason I am still standing here now is because I completed ALL of my missions, everyone handed to me by Umbrella and every objective fulfilled to the most expected standards the corporation had for the outcome. I am only alive because I am still of use to Umbrella's needs and I always fulfill whatever orders they give me, so if you are so bent on leaving here alive, then pull your head out of your ass and start obeying whatever commands you have been given; in other words, we have a job to do and we will not leave until that is done. Understood?" he demanded in a quiet tone, one that barely hinted at the cold and hard professionalism that lay beneath.

Alpha-9 trembled wildly in front of him and stared back at him in fright, expecting to receive a blow or attack to his person, his hands still shaking where they were placed in front of him to ward off Hunk from getting any closer as the two of them stared at each other but he soon nodded glumly in agreement and sank back against the wall, his head drooping forward and arms slumping at his sides.

Hunk then turned to look at the others. "How are all of you for weapons and ammunition?" he asked briskly.

"Couple of rounds left in this," Delta-3 replied, holding up his assault rifle. "along with a spare clip, my side-arm and three clips, the grenade launcher, at least three rounds of the different ammunition for it and the Linear Launcher."

Alpha-9 checked over his weapons behind Hunk, the clicking and rattling noises indicating that he was still shook up from Hunk's talk with him. "Assault rifle, one clip, shotgun, 12 shells and side-arm with two clips."

"Same here for me," Alpha-6 claimed.

"I ran out of rounds for my rifle, so I am down my shotgun and side-arm, but I have all my spare ammunition for each of them so I'm fine," Beta-4 added, stepping out into the hall, though he occasionally glanced at Dubois to check on him where he was sitting by the wall, still wrapped up in his own world.

Hunk nodded, slinging his rifle over his back and taking out his shotgun, racking a round into the chamber. "Alright. Now that our conversation has finished, we best get back onto the matter at a hand, put our heads together and think of something. We have a mission to complete so we'll have to get out there and find the Nemesis then take it out before it escapes from the UBCS perimeter. Once we kill the thing, we'll call in an evacuation chopper to the cabin and take Dubois with us back to the 6th European laboratory on par with Umbrella's orders."

Alpha-9 pulled out his rifle and checked it over once more, taking out the loaded clip, inspecting the ammo left inside before slapping it back in. "I still don't like it, man. How the hell are we supposed to kill that thing?"

Delta-3 shuddered slightly. "Yeah, that's true. That monster moved too fast for any of us to even hit the damn thing; we had used a lot of our ammunition and grenade rounds on the BOW, but none of them even hit the bastard, let alone wound it," he said.

Beta-4 scoffed. "Yeah, we noticed the light shows and big bangs from where we were on the trail," he said pointedly.

"I suppose you have a plan, Mr Death?" Alpha-6 asked tentatively.

Hunk sighed. "Yes, but you may not like it," he warned.

"Oh, great. And we're having such a blast that we think nothing else could possibly get any worse for us since it's such a fucking great time out here in this shithole," Alpha-9 said, his voice filled with contemptuous sarcasm.

"The only thing I can think is that we shoot it in a place that will give such a large wound it wouldn't be able to heal itself and eventually die out," he answered, looking around at each of them.

Immediately after he had finished, he could easily detect the looks of disbelief on their faces, hidden though they were behind their masks, staring blankly back at him in shock that he would suggest something like that, especially the look of horrified shock from Delta-3 who had already survived a fight with the BOW itself, albeit barely.

However, Alpha-9 was the first to voice his discontent of the suggestion. "That's your plan!?! Well, no shit, that's the FUCKING idea about shooting a goddamn weapon at an enemy on the mission. What the hell is that plan!?! I've made better plans like that when I was drunk!" he exclaimed in exasperation.

Hunk shrugged his shoulders. "That's the only thing we can do, unless you have a nuclear warhead on your person or a tranquilizer gun in your equipment, I'm afraid that's the best plan we have.

"But you have something else, right? Something we can use to our advantage?" Beta-4 questioned.

Hunk nodded. "Yep. It turns out that this thing has a weakness that we can use. If we can hit it with one of our high-grade weapons, like the grenade rounds or the Linear Launcher, at the base of the spine, we can kill it or at least wound it so badly that it won't be able to heal itself and would end up committing suicide," he explained.

"Where did you find that out?" Alpha-6 asked.

Hunk made a brief gesture with his head towards Dubois. "From him."

Beta-4 glanced at Dubois and turned back to Hunk. "Can he be trusted?" he questioned, suspicion etched in his tone.

Alpha-9 scoffed insultingly. "Oh right. Trust one Umbrella's brain boys to give us grunts some information? That's bullshit!"

Hunk ignored the man's jibe. "He can. After all, he had been in charge of the Nemesis Project from the beginning and had been the man most responsible for creating it, so if anyone has any useful information to use against it, it would have to be him," he answered.

Each of the soldiers looked over their shoulders back at Dubois, regarding the doctor for a few seconds with suspicion and concern as he continued to mumble to himself, seated against the wall and staring down at the floor with vacant eyes, then they returned to face Hunk, the disbelief still evident on their faces.

Hunk sighed. "Look. I know that what I said to you isn't the greatest plan in the world, that there would most definitely be better plans than mine anywhere in the history of warfare and battles, but the truth is that it is the ONLY plan we can use in our present. We can't leave and we barely have enough firepower alone to stand up in a proper fight with the BOW, so we just have to make do with the best we have got at the moment, despite how insane or stupid it sounds," he explained, putting on a sympathetic tone to show that he was just as dubious about his own idea as they were.

The other soldiers looked at each other momentarily, gazing into each other's faces for any sign that one of them had another idea, a suggestion to make or if they disagreed with the whole concept of their suicidal mission, but none of them made a move or said anything to contradict Hunk's plan, so they all looked back at Hunk and nodded curtly.

"Okay. I'm for it," Delta-3 said, pulling out the grenade launcher and loading some of the flame rounds into the chamber.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, hot shot," Alpha-9 stated incredulously, getting to his feet and pulling out his rifle.

Alpha-6 pulled out his shotgun, checking it over for damages or jams before he loaded in some shells and racked in a shell in the chamber. "So, what do we do now?" he asked Hunk.

"We start searching the whole sector of the woods, area by area, tree by tree, plant by plant until we find the Nemesis, then we take it out and call in a helicopter for evacuation, taking Dubois with us back to base so he can be returned to the lab facilities he was assigned to," Hunk explained.

"And how do we kill the Nemesis? Randomly shoot at the fucker?" Alpha-9 demanded rigidly.

"Once we find it, spread out around the thing and keep as far away from it as you possibly can. I'll take it from the front, whilst you and Alpha-6 attack from the flanks, and Beta-3 takes it from the rear; when you fire at it, aim for the organs and key joints in its limbs to injure it. However, even if we can't wound the thing greatly on our own, we just have to buy enough time for Delta-3 to charge up the Linear Launcher and hit it in the base of the spine to kill the thing." Hunk then regarded all of them with narrowed eyes, his gaze penetrating and stern. "And one more thing, don't let that thing get closer or give it a chance to escape. Those foxes outside had been infected by consuming some of the blood that had been spilled by the Nemesis when it had been wounded during its escape and we can't allow it to make another getaway. Otherwise this incident will grow far more out of control and we'd be dealing with a full-blown outbreak," he warned them all grimly.

Beta-3 gave off an almost imperceptible shudder at the thought of more mutants to contend with and walked past all of them over to the door, putting his ear against it to listen to the sounds outside.

"Speaking of the infected, what do we do about the foxes outside?" he asked.

Outside the locked door, the infected foxes continued to stalk the small wooden structure, their light footsteps clicking on the wooden porch, their snarls and growls of intense hunger muffled through the thickness of the boards surmounting the walls; taking a brief look outside the windows through a gap in between the hastily-nailed boards put up across the thin glass panes, Hunk watched the foxes pace back and forth in front of the cabin, their decaying bodies revealed fully in the bright lights from the lamps hanging from the porch roof, their milky-white eyes fixed upon the barricaded openings of the building with ravenous hunger and menacingly dark rage, waiting for a chance to break through the blockades and sink their bloody fangs into the flesh of the soldiers inside for a taste of warm blood whilst the foxes that had been crippled from the shots to their limbs feebly dragged themselves across the floor towards the cabin in vain attempts to feast upon the uninfected humans inside.

"We take them down, as our objectives stipulate to us; their potential vectors to spread the infection, thus we eliminate them before they have an opportunity to spread the infection," Hunk replied coldly.

The soldiers nodded silently behind him.

"Alright. On three, I'll open the door and you all lay down suppressing fire on the infected animals. Remember, these things are incredibly agile and fast on their feet, even before they were infected, so we best aim for their limbs to cripple them first then we put them all down with rounds to the head. Clear?"

All the soldiers nodded grimly, hefting their weapons and getting into positions a few inches away from the door, crouching down on their knees with their weapons pointed at the entrance, fingers on triggers and hands steady to aim, whilst Hunk moved to the side of the door, reaching his hand across to grasp hold of the doorknob, his other hand hefting his shotgun at the ready.

"One," Hunk counted, flicking open the locks one by one with his free hand.

The USF troopers tensed visibly as each of the locks snapped open, their hands gripping their weapons tighter and their breathing growing rapid under their masks.

"Two," Hunk counted, grasping the doorknob tightly and turning it to open the latch slowly, the metal hinge softly clicking as it slid aside from the frame.

"Okay, here we go. "Thr-"

He trailed off sharply when he heard something outside, the sound of snapping branches and a loud thump noise that indicated something had come into the clearing. Something big.

Instantly, the infected foxes snarled at the new creature which had entered the clearing, letting loose a chorus of snarls and howls in rage at their visitor, but those small cries were surpassed by the loud guttural roar that echoed outside, ringing loudly through the closed doors and shaking the ground beneath their feet with its intensity, their hearts leaping into their throats and the breathing vanishing inside their lungs in fright; instantly, Hunk shuddered in dread and felt a cold dark pit fall through his stomach as he recognized the loud animalistic cry outside, remembering the pain and intense agony inside the roar's volume ring out in the silent night.

It was the same sound that he had heard on the last call his team had received from Delta and Charlie squads before contact had been lost.

"Oh shit," Delta-3 muttered in a quiet voice from behind him, recognizing the sound almost immediately.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp emanated from Dubois, his head snapping up to gaze at one of the barricaded windows, staring at the nailed-up glass panes in hopes of seeing his work beyond.

"My Masterpiece!!! It's here!!! It's HERE!!! IT'S HERE!!!" Dubois screeched, cackling madly to himself in wheezy breaths.

Almost immediately, a loud wet splat rang out from behind the doors, followed closely by snapping bones and flesh being torn apart, a tiny yelp of surprise and pain barely audible over the awful sounds before it was cut short by a dull thump and a resonating crash, accompanied by breaking twigs and smashing tree limbs. The foxes snarled at the new entity, the rage and hunger still evident in their throaty growls, and charged at the creature, their small clicking footsteps fading away until what sounded like a sledgehammer being slammed into the ground came from outside in regular rhythms, indicating some very heavy footsteps moving towards the cabin then came the additional sounds of slaughter, the yelps of the foxes along with their bodies being torn to shreds drowned out by the creature's large roar again-

-and Hunk leaped back from the door when the Nemesis threw one of the foxes at it, the wood crunching inward from the impact in a shower of splinters, the fox emitting a feeble mewl of pain as it crashed to the porch with a wet thud and blood seeped through the cracks on the wall above the door.

Tense seconds ticked by in agonizing suspense as the heavy footsteps grew closer and the roar echoed again, then all sound outside came to a sharp stop-

-when a loud crash came from the roof, causing all of the soldiers to look up towards the roof, watching as dust and small splinters fell from the thick supports on the roof.

Hunk watched the roof warily for any other signs of movement, his weapon raised and finger on the trigger to fire at the first threat that appeared, but no additional sounds or movements came, so he lowered his weapon and turned towards the other soldiers who were all watching the roof as well with weapons raised.

"That was the Nemesis, I guess," Hunk stated sternly.

"Yeah," Delta-3 replied grimly. "Hope you enjoy his social skills."

"Where the fuck is it?" Alpha-9 demanded. "Oh will you shut the hell up, you geek!?! Or do you want my foot in your ass?!" he yelled towards Dubois laughing back in the lounge.

"Probably up on the roof," Beta-3 said, gesturing towards the roof with an incline of his head.

"Well, what now?" Alpha-6 asked, stepping closer to Hunk.

"Go outside and kill it," Hunk retorted, grabbing hold of the doorknob with one hand whilst holding his rifle up with the other.

"Fuck you, man!! I am not going out there!" Alpha-9 exclaimed desperately, backing away from the door.

"Tough. You're coming and that's that." Hunk then gently pushed the door open and stood in front of it, weapon raised. "Move out."

Tentatively, Hunk stepped outside, sweeping his gun side-to-side on for signs of trouble, then reached up with one hand to turn his night-vision back on, flicking the small switch to bring up the bright green image on his visor-

-and stopped cold at the sight of what lay before him in the clearing, glancing around the bloody massacre that littered the muddy surroundings in the quiet evening.

_Mary Mother of God._

Scattered around the clearing, Hunk could see the foxes or parts of them tore asunder thrown across the mud, leaving them rotting and seemingly floating in pools of infected blood, their horrifically mangled bodies tossed aside, giving off faint spasms in the puddles of blood in feeble attempts to latch onto whatever they had left. Looking to his left, Hunk gazed at the fox that lay by the door, its body crushed and shattered, bones sticking out in a multitude of pieces from its decimated rotting form, the trail of blood flowing down from the cracked and splintered section of wall looming above the door, its dead eyes staring back at him blankly and its jaws wide open in broken joints.

Glancing around the area, Hunk saw no enemies, his night-vision picking up no movement in the tree line or the rocky outcroppings of the adjacent mountain range, the waterfall still falling blissfully in the rockpool underneath and the decimated foxes lying completely still on the mud.

"Clear front!" he announced.

"Clear left!" Beta-3 said, around the left corner of the porch.

"Clear right!" Alpha-6 said from the opposite end, looking around the right corner of the porch.

"Do we move?" Delta-3 asked quietly from behind him.

Hunk nodded, thrusting his hand forward flat on its side.

Slowly, the group of USF troopers moved out from the cover of the porch into the open clearing, tentatively stepping over the corpses scattered across the grass and the blood that pooled around them, the tiny viral molecules inside swirling through the coagulated fluid, their senses on high-alert for the Nemesis BOW still lurking in the area.

Hunk couldn't help but shiver at the vast weight he felt crushing down on his shoulders from the heavy silence that filled the air, choking his lungs and strangling his throat through his visor, his breathing soft despite the sense of fear creeping up on him as he cautiously approached the trees that stood like tall pillars of darkness in the thick shadows brought on by the evening, the moon settling behind thick dark clouds that hovered above the canopy of trees. Something about the area was making his instincts scream, offering feeble pleads to turn and run, to leave before whatever it had detected could have a chance of attacking him.

He at first considered that it was just the total lack of life in the clearing and absolute silence shrouding the area playing against his mind, sparking up his fear that crept through his mind, worming away at his composure, but he discarded that thought immediately. The Nemesis had been in the area for what could only have been a couple of minutes and had practically slaughtered the infected foxes that had cornered them in the cabin, but instead of charging into the cabin, which it could easily have done without the slightest hint of effort, it decided to run off back into the woods.

And his years of experience as a soldier told him what was the normal outcome from any situation with similar circumstances.

_This smells like an ambush._

When Hunk first heard the sound, he originally perceived it to be just the wind whistling amongst the trees again but the noise gradually rose into an angry howl that rang from the roof of the cabin and Hunk spun around to face the roof with weapon raised, the other soldiers following suit. What Hunk saw actually made him freeze, his entire professional composure blown away by the sight before him, and in the time it took for his mind to fully register what it was he was looking at, he stood rigidly in place with a bone-chilling awe and shock.

_Holy shit!_

The picture that McVarian had shown them all during the flight in the helicopters to the mountain range hadn't done the thing much justice because it looked worse than it had appeared in the bad picture. Much, much worse.

The Nemesis Mark I was a humanoid figure that stood to seven or eight feet tall, its skin a deathly pale color covered in small scars from constant surgery over the years it spent in Umbrella's labs, its shoulders impossibly broad with muscular arms that extended down to its wide waist, its hands huge and covered with thick fingers that seemed ample enough to crush a man's head effortlessly like it was a chestnut, supported by thick tree-trunk legs. Blood covered much of the monster's large body, dark splashes of coagulated crimson liquid drying on pale flesh that shone in Hunk's night-vision, particularly around its hands from the fighting it had been in moments ago, and a gruesome wound was exposed in its left side, the gaping hole drenched in dried blood and singed by black burns from gunpowder, the bright red sinew of torn muscle glistening sickly in the light, a small glint of its rib cage appearing from the top of its severe injury. And the so-called 'ropes' that Hunk had noticed before were in fact tentacles, long coiled pieces of pulsing violet flesh that dangled from the many holes that they erupted through its body, hanging down its large back in a joint symmetrical motion that resembled a tattered living cloak, dark brown scabs growing around the small puncture marks that the tentacles dangled from, but the main gathering of the fleshy appendages was around its left hand, the coils enveloping the limb completely from the forearm down to the palm of its hand, small droplets of blood dripping down onto the wooden roof in rhythmic beats.

Then, for the single minuscule period it took for the Nemesis to turn its head towards them, time seemed to slow down to a crawl, the BOW shifting its considerable bulk around to glare at them, allowing Hunk to take every horrifically gruesome detail.

It had no facial hair whatsoever, leaving its entire face blanched pale as the rest of his skin, although dark brown scabs crested the area around the back of its neck, indicating where the tentacles embedded themselves in the sickly flesh along its spinal cord to the parasite that lurked within. Narrow slits with milky-white pupils glared at him from the cold face, an infinite rage burning furiously behind the dead irises, its entire deadly force focused directly at Hunk and the other USF soldiers staring at it from below. But the most grotesque feature the monster possessed was its mouth, the mass of skin that comprised its mouth and chin torn away to reveal bright red muscle tissue, the thick tendons that held its jaws together bristling with each breath it passed through its clenched teeth along its drooling pink gums and its nose completely torn away to reveal the inner parts of its nasal cavity.

The Nemesis let out another angry growl at them, its jaws open wide and spittle flying from its malformed face, snapping Hunk out his analysis and spurring him into action, his weapon aimed at its chest and finger about to press the trigger-

-when, in an amazing bout of agility and stamina, the massive BOW leapt from the roof in one massive jump, sailed high over them and landed in a crouch a few meters behind them, churning up leaves and dirt in its short slide across the mud. Slowly, it raised itself out of its crouch and turned around to face them, its large torso expanding and contracting with each rasping breath that passed through its torn lips, its eyes glaring at them with a primal fury, its attention fixated on them.

"UM-BREL-LAAA!!" it managed to utter, the word itself almost becoming lost in the warbling growl that accompanied it, each word emphasized with the rumbling vocal noise.

"Fire!" Hunk bellowed and pressed the trigger.

A volley of bullets opened up at the Nemesis, the small rounds showering it in full force to its chest, purple blood gushing in slow rivers from the new wounds that opened up in its body. But, the BOW seemed to take little notice to the bullets that peppered its skin, the wounds ceasing it to bleed slowly and heal over in a matter of seconds as the squads hastily reloaded their weapons and opened fire again, and it took a slow lumbering step forward in their direction, oblivious to the multitude of injuries the bullets gave it; the squad back away several paces, keeping as much distance between themselves and the BOW that approached them, unloading a constant barrage of firepower at it.

Hunk continued to fire until he heard the dry click from his rifle that meant he was out and threw away the empty weapon, hastily pulling out his shotgun and pumping rounds into the monster's broad chest, aiming for where the thing's heart should be.

"Why won't this thing fucking die!?!" Alpha-9 exclaimed desperately, trying to load another clip into his rifle with shaky hands.

"Delta-3!! What's taking so long with the Linear Launcher!?!" Hunk demanded sharply, risking a glance over his shoulder back at the trooper's position.

Delta-3 was kneeling down on the porch with the Linear Launcher placed in front of him, his hands tapping frantically over the weapon controls in an attempt to charge the power faster and prepare the weapon for firing.

"It's needs time to charge and I can't make it go faster!!" he shouted feebly, glancing up at Hunk, his expression easy to read through his mask. "I need a few more seconds!!"

"We don't have a few more seconds!!"

Hunk snapped back around to face the Nemesis and opened fire again with his shotgun, the spray of buckshot peppering the thing's chest with a mass of small bullet-holes that continued to pierce its deathly pale flesh from the volley of gunfire the USF troopers laid out at the beast, the large torso drenched in the many flows of purple blood spilling from its injuries, but they did very little to deter it as it strode towards them menacingly.

Eventually, his shotgun emitted the dry click of an empty chamber and Hunk hastily rummaged his hand through the pockets of his fatigues, pulling out eight spare shells, racking open the chamber and sliding the shells in quickly whilst keeping his hands steady to prevent the weapon from jamming, looking up towards the Nemesis still approaching in a slow confident walk-

-but, in a glimpse of short movement, the monster broke out into a sprint, crossing the clearing in long bounding strides, tentacles outstretched and aimed directly at its chest.

Without thinking and acting on instinct alone, Hunk dove to the side, clutching his weapon tight against his chest as he kicked away from the ground and rolled along the dirt to avoid the monster charging at him. For the moment, Hunk anticipated that the Nemesis would get him, that he would feel its fleshy appendages punch through his chest and the agony of his organs being skewered completely in the attack, however, when he rolled along the dirt and came back on his knees in a crouch, he snapped his head up back to glance at the BOW and saw that he wasn't the intended target.

Instead, the Nemesis bounded past him, its momentum carrying it across the clearing in an amazing burst of speed, oblivious to his presence and charged forward at Beta-3 who had been standing behind him, desperately unloading shells into the monster that came at him, but the Nemesis remained unaffected by the attack and continued its sprint, closing the distance in a matter of split seconds, raising its arm to strike at the soldier-

-and punching him square in the chest with his left hand, the tentacles that hung from its arm thrusting forward like living lances, punching through his chest with an sound, wet and squishy, heavy but slick, the sound made when one punched a hole through a slab of meat, and impaling him, the appendages bursting forth from the soldier's back, swaying blindly as the Nemesis hoisted the man effortlessly into the air, flinging droplets of blood from its muscular skin.

Beta-3 let out a shriek of pain when he felt the tentacles rupture through him, dropping his weapon to the ground and clutching hold of the ropey coiled spears that writhed inside him, feebly trying to pull them back out from his chest, but his shrieks soon became nothing but gurgled choking noises in his throat as blood rushed up from where his internal organs had been damaged, his pulls and grip on the tentacles gradually growing weaker until he let out a single soft sigh from behind his respirator, his hands slipping off the tentacles and falling to his side lifelessly, his head slumping forward onto his still chest.

The Nemesis regarded the dead man hanging from its limb quietly for several fleeting seconds, the emotion in its gaze hard for Hunk to detect, if there was any hint of human thought or feelings left in it to display at all, but then it suddenly grasped Beta-3's skull with its right hand and tossed him to the side as easily as if he were an empty can of rations, retracting the tentacles back into its left hand with one fluid motion before the soldier's corpse slammed into a sturdy pine tree, the sickening crack of bones ringing out when the body smack into the wood and fell into the bushes nestled beneath the tree as the Nemesis turned towards Hunk, growling deeply to itself on its approach.

Hunk snapped out of his stupor, from where he had been the BOW had killed Beta-3 numbly as he got off the ground, and aimed his weapon at the monster, firing two shotgun rounds into its chest. The bullets found their mark, smacking into the monster's chest and most likely hitting some organs on the way in, dark violet blood running down its torso from the multitude of small bullet holes, but it continued on its approached, the almost point-blank range shot barely fazing it.

He pumped and fired, pumped and fired, pumped and fired, unloading more buckshot into the creature, the wounds beginning to blow out a large chunk of its chest, exposing the front of its rib cage and huge lungs that pumped n a comfortable routine with every breath, despite the small wounds that punctured the elastic flesh, yet the Nemesis still walked towards him, the NE-T Virus in its body regenerating its injuries with hardly any delay or effort.

"Shit," Hunk hissed under his breath as he stepped back a couple of paces, attempting to keep his distance from the monster, the bloody tentacles that pulsed deep in its thick muscular arms a sign of how dangerous it could be.

He pumped in another shell and switched his aim towards the BOW's left knee, hoping to cripple it or stun it long enough to buy Delta-3 the time he needed to finish charging the Linear Launcher. He fired and the buckshot struck its mark, blowing open the joint in a spray of blood and shredded muscle tissue, a rather critical shot that could cause a crippling wound on any ordinary human though when concerning one of Umbrella's Tyrant-class BOWs, he had no idea if it would be sufficient enough to slow it down.

However, the shot did have an effect on the BOW. It gave a sharp grunt through clenched teeth, feeling the pain from the shot that tore open its knee, stumbled unsteadily as it struggled to support its weight on the injured leg, collapsing onto its knees. Several gunshots echoed out to his left from Alpha's 9 and 6, and more bullet smacked into the Nemesis, opening up more wounds in its back, hitting the area around the base of the spinal cord and where the parasite would be, the BOW grunting as each bullet punched through its flesh.

Hunk raised his shotgun at the thing's head and squeezed the trigger, hoping that a shot to the head would knock it unconscious-

-but, in the blink of an eye that Hunk couldn't catch a single glimpse of its movement from where it knelt on the ground in front of him, the Nemesis lashed out its left arm at him, the tentacles snapping forth from within its hand and stretching back in joined motion with the arm as he raised it behind its back then brought it forward at Hunk in a sideway-slashing motion, the elastic appendages swinging forward and giving off a faint wet crack as they snapped sharply in a single movement, slamming into Hunk's chest and knocking him hard to the side with all the force of a punch.

Hunk felt his feet leave the ground and found himself floating on absolutely nothing for several moments, the entire world spinning in a maze of different white-and-black tones through the dark green tint of his night-vision, the clearing around him becoming a blur and his stomach heaving with the unprecedented mid-air spin, until he came back down to Earth on his side with a hollow thump, hissing through clenched teeth at the sudden dull pain that flared in his chest and, indicating he had bruised it both, either from the fall or when the Nemesis smacked him, and rolled onto his back, taking hold of his fallen shotgun that lay on the ground a few meters away.

"Alpha-4!?! You okay!?!" Alpha-6 yelled, firing his shotgun at the BOW, the loud boom making Hunk's spinning head throb.

"I'm...fine," he replied forcefully as he forced himself to sit upright, shaking his head to rid himself of the light-headiness he felt and rapidly blinking his eyes to clear away the blurred spinning vision they had adapted.

Almost immediately after the dizziness, throbbing and blurred vision had dissipated, and the aches he felt in his bruised side had faded away, Hunk got to his feet slowly, his legs feeling wavy and unsteady beneath him, his hands numb and fingers failing to clench around the butt of his weapon, and turned to face the Nemesis, the monster getting to its feet as well and began approaching Hunk again, purple blood dribbling down its wounded leg.

Hunk took aim with his weapon, struggling to keep his hands from trembling and steady the shot, his sight wavering and becoming a shifting blur that doubled and singled continually as he attempted to focus on the large BOW that walked toward him, pointing the shotgun at the exposed wound in its chest where its large lungs continued to expand and contract with each breath.

But, when he squeezed the trigger, the shot went wide and hit the Nemesis in its left shoulder, tearing open a ragged hole in its flesh, purple blood erupting out the wound, probably due to the tentacles and arteries inside the shoulder rupturing from the shot, splattering across Hunk in a short wave and bleeding rapidly down the monster's chest in a gushing torrent. The Nemesis emitted a painful grunt and clasped its right hand over the wound, purple blood seeped through between its fingers and dripped down onto the clearing as it attempted to stop the bleeding, the pale flesh rippling and shifting as something squirmed around inside its arm, pushing out against the flesh of the BOW it inhabited. Hunk gave a small smirk at the thing and extended his middle finger towards it when the Nemesis raised its head to glare at him with its milky-white eyes, a deep angry howl escaping its ruined mouth and its rage piercing into through his visor.

_I hoped that hurt, you son of a bitch._

However, Hunk's smirk immediately vanished from his face when the Nemesis raised its left arm over its head, tentacles extending out into a long whip that curled behind it in a half-made arc, and lashed in down in a downward arc, the tentacles swinging forward-

-and Hunk nimbly rolled to the side, feeling the rush of air between the space of his right leg and the Nemesis wash over as the tentacles were brought down onto the ground where he stood moments ago, the fleshy appendages making a wet hollow thud on the dirt.

"Delta-3!! What's the status on the launcher?" Hunk demanded as he got to his feet and hastily reloaded his weapon.

"Almost...Got it!!" Delta-3 shouted in relief.

Hunk risked a glance over at the cabin to see the last surviving member of Delta squad hefting the prototype weapon onto his shoulder, balancing the end of the weapon on his shoulder whilst placing his hands over the two grips, finger resting on trigger and barrel aimed toward the Nemesis, the small scope set into the side of the barrel snapped down in front of his visor.

"Get clear!!" Hunk bellowed, moving back several paces to put some distance between himself and BOW.

All of the soldiers scattered, putting as much distance as they could from the Nemesis to keep out of the blast from the prototype weapon, since they had no idea how powerful the Launcher was, yet making sure that they were close enough to the monster to prevent giving it any encouragement to charge at them with its amazing speed.

As soon as everyone had put some distance between themselves and the Nemesis, the BOW growling again at them again angrily, tentacles swaying menacingly by its side, searching for something else to attack, glancing at each of them in turn before it settled its gaze on Delta-3 and headed over to him, the bloodlust easy to see in its eyes, Hunk yelled, "Open fire!!"

Delta-3 nodded grimly, pointing the weapon at the BOW that came towards him slowly, seemingly calm and collected. "Have a serving of remedial kick-ass, you freak!" he declared sternly.

"NNNOOOO!!!" someone cried out from behind the soldier back inside the cabin, the cry almost desperate and pleading for him to stop-

-then the sharp crack of gunshot snapped from behind Delta-3 and the soldier's head exploded, a fountain of blood, bone and brains erupting from his face, staining the front of his uniform and the wooden porch, the man dropping like a stone silently, his weapon dropping from limp hands-

-and Dubois stood behind him, pistol in hand, the barrel giving off a faint trail of smoke from being fired, his sunken eyes filled with a fanatical obsession, his wiry hands trembling wildly with the gun still clutched tightly between them.

The Nemesis stopped abruptly in its approach and glanced down at Delta-3, regarding him with what looked to Hunk like curiousity, studying the corpse for a few seconds before it looked up at the man responsible for creating it, its gaze burning brightly with animalistic rage and primal hunger, and started forward again, growling in that gruff deep tone.

"My creation. My life's work," Dubois muttered affectionately, a beaming smile on his face and tears brimming at his eyes.

"Dubois, you can't be serious," Alpha-6 stated in disbelief at having watched the man murder one of his comrades, taking a few cautious steps towards the disheveled scientist.

However, judging by the way the man looked and the expression he shot to the soldier that addressed him, Hunk could see that he was too far gone to be reasoned with.

_Should have put a bullet in him when I had the chance. I knew he would act like this sooner or later._

"Silence!!!" Dubois exclaimed furiously, firing at the ground by the soldier's feet.

Alpha-6 jumped backwards, avoiding the bullets that smacked into the ground at his and snapped his gaze back up towards the scientist. "Dubois, this thing is a monster. You can't believe that it will obey you or is going to be capable of understanding reason. It's a BOW gone rogue! We have orders to destroy it-" the soldier asked imploringly, holding up his hands palms out to the insane doctor in a passive gesture.

"SHUT UP!!!" Dubois exclaimed furiously. "You all are morons!!! Useless pieces of incompetent trash!! Not even fitting to grasp the concept of the true marvel that is the magnificent specimen you see before you!! You have no comprehension of how superior this thing is to you!! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS TO IT!!!!!"

Hunk sighed exasperatedly at Dubois' rambling and glanced over at the Nemesis to see that, throughout the short lapse in time that their attention had been shifted from it, the BOW was now a few meters away from the man who had developed it in every possible way, its heavy footsteps causing small cracks and splinters in the wooden porch, and watched as it came to a stop in front of Dubois, its intimidatingly large form towering over that of the obsessed doctor by several feet.

Dubois gasped in astonishment, his expression growing overjoyed and filled with admiration, his arms spread wide as if he wished to embrace the BOW that glared down at him in fury.

"My Nemesis. My God on Earth. You have returned to me at last," Dubois stated ecstatically.

The Nemesis simply growled at Dubois and reached out toward him with its right hand, grasping him tightly on one of his shoulders and hoisting him into the air, glaring at the man in primal rage and hunger. It then extended its left hand and clutched hold of his head, the giant palm completely obscuring Dubois' face and fingers encircling across the back his skull, holding the scientist by his head as Hunk would hold a baseball or a tangerine. Underneath the huge hand that covered his face, Hunk could hear Dubois breathing comfortably and at a steady pace, keeping absolutely calm with what was happening despite the way his breaths came out in muffled gasps and that the Nemesis was growling at him with its gruff voice-

-but then came that awful squishing sound, the same one that came from when Beta-3 had been killed, and Hunk watched in stunned horror as one of the tentacles smashed out from the back of Dubois neck, the slick appendage crashing through the scientist's skull with a fountain of squirting blood that splashed down the cabin walls. Hunk didn't need to get any closer or think it over at all to know that Dubois was as good as dead since that wound was unquestionably fatal, even if he were still alive afterwards. He'd bleed out in a matter of seconds.

The Nemesis howled in rage and hefted Dubois' corpse above its shoulder, the tentacle swaying blindly from where it jutted out of the dead scientist's neck, slowly retreating back into the arm of its owner, then brought it down onto the porch, slamming the body through the wooden flooring into the dirt underneath, the planks exploding into a cloud of splinters and large chunks, embedding themselves into the flesh of the BOW, the scientist's head crushed into oblivion on impact with a loud splat.

Slowly, the Nemesis looked up towards them, covered in blood and a variety of multiple wounds, some its own and the rest of those it killed, tentacles swaying around its left arm, milky-white eyes fixed on them in a never-ending dark tide of fury, ruined mouth twisted into a snarl, the exposed muscles stretching and contracting in different places to move its gums into the expression, its entire appearance an embodiment of something that could only exist in Hell or nightmares and growled at them, shifting its imposing form to face them fully.

It then swung its arm behind its back in the fashion of a pitcher at baseball game, tentacles flowing beneath its pale flesh and emerging from the palm of its hand, took two steps forward and swung its arm in their direction as if it were throwing a punch-

-but, in the blink of an eye, the tentacles shot out from its arm like arrows from a bow string with that awful squishing noise, stretching across the distance between the BOW and the surviving USF soldiers, elongating to an extraordinary length-

-and, before any one could move or react to what was happening, the fleshy appendages encircled and wrapped themselves around Alpha-6's waist. The stunned soldier glanced down at the tentacles that tightened their grip around his waist and looked up at the Nemesis, which growled at him in response-

-then gave a sharp pull with its left arm, snapping the man off his feet and hurling him high into the air above its head, Alpha-6 screaming in terror as he was dangling precariously in the air-

-until the Nemesis brought him down onto the dirt, head first, in a downward arc, slamming him directly into the dirt and breaking his neck with a loud snap.

The BOW repeated the process several times, hoisting the corpse up into the air and slamming it down onto the ground with its tentacles that were curled tightly around it like a lasso wrapped around a buffalo in a Clint Eastwood Western film, smashing nearly enough every bone in Alpha-6's body with sickening cracks and rupturing every internal organ with what sounded like a wet stab, reducing the man into something that resembled a broken rag doll, limbs dangling limply in the air and swinging slightly in the breeze, his entire body folding and shifting like crumpled paper dolls, the skin and muscle beneath easy to compress as rubber-

-then, when it had grown tired of smashing the corpse continually onto the ground and breaking its skeleton into pieces, the Nemesis swung its arm to the side and threw the body at one of the barricaded windows, the crumpled corpse smashing through the wooden planks and glass covering the window in a shower of broken splinters, shattered wood and shards of glass pieces, landing with a wet thud inside the cabin room, blood pooling underneath the corpse and merging with the pools of broken pieces of the cabin.

"Oh fuck this shit!!" Alpha-9 exclaimed despairingly, throwing down his weapon and making a 180 spin on the spot, making a frantic sprint for the trees, pumping his arms more speed and panting wildly in fear at what he was running from.

The Nemesis howled furiously in response and charged after the fleeing soldier, its momentum carrying it across the clearing in massive bounding strides, smashing through the bushes sitting under the trees and vanishing amongst the canopy in pursuit of its prey, the large pounding of its footstep fading away into silence.

Hunk stared after the two of them, completely paralyzed in shock and fright at what he saw, the nausea beginning to rise up his alimentary canal and burn at the back of his throat, his hands grew cold and clammy inside his gloves, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead under his helmet and his heart racing like a hummingbird in his rib cage. In just a few short minutes, the Nemesis Mark I had just killed most of the other members of the USF squads still alive in the area, literally skewering them like fish on a stick and smashing them apart with incredible strength, and survived a multitude of gunfire to all major points of its body, including a shot to the chest that tore open its torso to reveal its lungs, another shot to the shoulder that should have ruptured a major artery and caused massive bleeding, and a shot to one of its knees that should have severed the joint so badly enough that it would cripple it. Yet it was still able to stand up, attack them with relative ease and able to launch itself into a massive sprint despite how many wounds it must have sustained throughout its entire escape, if one were to include the wounds from its escape from the 6th European Laboratory, its attack against Delta and Charlie squads, and then them at the cabin.

_Your job is not to analyze the damn thing!! You're here to kill it! Focus on the mission, soldier!_

Once the sharp order from his conscience had faded, Hunk gave himself a slap to forehead in irritation for letting his guard, despite how much he knew that acting in such a way was incredibly stupid because one split-second of unawareness or shift in attention could cost you your life. He turned towards the cabin and ran up to where Delta-3's body lay by the door, blood forming a puddle around the gaping bullet wound in his face, crouching down beside the dead soldier and picked up the Linear Launcher that sat next to him; when he glanced at the bar that measured the amount of charge that it had left, Hunk saw that the bar was filled to the very end with a bright blue fluid, the green light the indicated a fully-charged projectile blinking steadily beside it.

"No!! Get back!! Get back!!" Alpha-9 cried out in despair, his voice whistling in over the radio, barely audible over the static accompanying the message.

Hunk made a quick glance over in the direction the Nemesis and Alpha-9 had ran off in, looking for any signs that the BOW was coming back yet he could find no movement in the woods, then slung the Linear Launcher across his back with the sling and began rummaging through Delta-3's gear, picking up all the spare clips and shells in his kit and shoving them in his belt pouches or clipping them to his vest.

Suddenly, over the radio, Hunk heard a high pitched scream that gradually escalated into a shriek of terror which was sharply cut off by a loud crunch and that horrible squishing noise which signified the tentacles attacking something, most obviously the poor soldier attempting to escape.

Quickly, Hunk pulled out his shotgun, racking a shell into the chamber and spun around to face the treeline, eyes narrowed and focused, hands gripped tightly on his weapon and ready to pull the trigger, watching as a large dark shape came towards him slowly, drawing closer and closer until it stepped out into the clearing and emitted an angered growl at him-

-clutching the writhing body of Alpha-9 in its left hand, the soldier choking and his breath escaping in gargling gasps as blood rushed from the wounds in his chest where the tentacles jutted out of, swaying from side-to-side in a relaxed fashion, searching blindly for its next target.

"Bring it, big guy," Hunk said calmly.

The Nemesis gave off another rumbling growl at him, dropped the corpse of Alpha-9 by its side, the tentacles seeping out backwards from the body into its left hand and swung its arm behind it, preparing to lash out with its tentacles and grab him at a distance like it did with Alpha-6; Hunk, acting on prior knowledge, training and instincts, leaped backwards from where he stood as the Nemesis brought its left arm at him, tentacles snapping forward and reaching out for him, attempting to latch onto him and wrap him in their vice-like grip, leaping back a couple of paces so that he was nearly enough at the opposite corner of the cabin-

-but, suddenly, he felt something tug at his right leg and hold him in tight grip, preventing him from moving any further backwards. Glancing down to look at his leg, Hunk let out a sharp hiss of air from between his clenched teeth-

-as he noticed that the tentacles had coiled themselves around his ankle, wrapping around the entire limb and gripping it tightly that he couldn't move it or free it from the grip it had on his leg, almost enough to snap the bone in two. Then, the Nemesis raised its left arm and brought it down sharply in a swinging motion, causing the tentacles to vault into the air and snap back down onto the floor, launching Hunk a few meters into the air and bringing down onto the porch with a loud crash.

Hunk felt a dull pain spread through his back and winced when he felt the throb of the bruises still on his arm attack him after his rough landing, groaning in slight disorientation from the way his head spun on the fall-

-but he immediately snapped back into focus when he felt himself being pulled across the wooden floor towards the Nemesis, the Linear Launcher scraping along the ground where it hung from his back and his belt pouches occasionally snagging on the gaps in the planks he slid across, the leather straps catching onto a broken piece of wood and stretching under a great strain from the pull of the BOW until the wood broke and the dragging resumed.

Hunk snapped his head up to look at the Nemesis and watched it drag him by his leg, pulling sharply with its left arm over its shoulder, the tentacle slowly withdrawing into its arm with Hunk following behind on the floor, acting like a pulley-and-winch system, then he reached down with his left hand for the knife sheathed in his boot. He pulled the blade free from the leather holster inside his boot easily, drawing the knife out and began hacking away at the fleshy rope that tugged at his leg, splattering purple blood across his arms and legs as the blade slashed through the thickly, coiled appendages, causing the tentacle to ripple and spasm with each contact as it struggled to maintain its grip. The Nemesis grunted in pain at the blade that hacked away at its tentacles, its ruined lips bristling and jaw muscles flexing as the groan passed from between clenched teeth, but it continued pulling Hunk up to it, its right hand reaching out to grab his neck.

As his body slid off the porch and slammed down onto the dirt of the clearing, the slippery mud easier for his bulky equipment to drag across the floor, Hunk swung the knife high up above his head, clutching it tightly in his hands and keeping a firm grip of the hilt as his gloves grew wet from the infected violet blood that flowed down the leather material for the hilt, seeping into the black fabric and staining his fingers, and brought it down with all the strength he could muster in a downward arc-

-and the tentacle split apart, the large chunk that grasped tightly to his ankle sheared off by the blade and flopping around on the ground like a beached fish that had been washed up on the shore, the appendage suddenly growing stiff then relaxed and slipped from his leg, spasming furiously on the ground and bleeding profusely from the stump where he cut the tentacle. The Nemesis reared its head back and howled in agony when the blade hacked away one of the parasite's slimy, flexible limbs, its right hand snapping to grasp its left arm as the tentacle swung around wildly, purple blood violently spurting from the stump, the pale flesh of its arm bubbling with the gathered ropes of flesh that pushed around inside in an attempt to relieve themselves of the pain that shot through their arm, its fingers trembling violently and the severed appendage sliding clumsily back into its arm, staining the flesh with a faint purple stain that grew larger as seconds past.

Wasting no time watching the spectacle, Hunk pressed his hands firmly on the ground by his side and pushed back with all his strength, vaulting his legs up over his body as he launched his weight from his hands up over his head, performing a short backwards roll, the world spinning vertically until he planted his feet on the ground and went into a crouching position, snapping his shotgun up and aiming at the monster before him. He first thought about aiming for the head, but that would have angered it, even should he hit the eyes and he had no idea if it needed the eyes at all to find him. He then wondered about aiming for another one of its major bodily organs but he had already tried numerous times at that venture and the BOW simply disregarded the gunfire to its chest as nothing that demanded attention, despite the amount of blood it lost or that its lungs were exposed for him to see.

With that, he decided to go for the one area he had noticed which seemed to injure or affect the BOW, one that had managed to do some damage, however minor, to it and slow it down for a brief period of time. He shifted his aim and targeted the Nemesis' left kneecap, the wound still fresh and open, although the bleeding had stopped.

He fired a shot then pumped in another shell, fired again, pumped then fired a third time, a fourth and unloaded as many shells into the joint until the chamber clicked dry. All the shots found their mark, the spray of buckshot smacking into the leg and tearing out ragged pieces as they penetrated the skin, purple blood spouting forth in small splashes of colored droplets over itself, the small round sphere of metal ripping through the knee and the Nemesis grunted at every shot, feeling the pain as the gunfire tore through its ligament-

-when, suddenly, there was a sickening crack and the Nemesis howled in pain, collapsing on its wounded leg whilst balancing all its weight on its other whole one, violet blood frothing from the massive new wound that exploded on its left leg, using its hand to keep balance on the ground, huge fingers digging into the dirt and anchoring it in place.

At first, Hunk wondered what had happened, but when he glanced at the Nemesis' leg and saw the way the limb rested behind it, all bloodied and dislocated, bent at an awkward angle, he realized that he had actually crippled the BOW by destroying its kneecap, effectively keeping it ground in place and unable to move.

Yet that didn't mean it was defenseless.

Hunk instinctively leaped back onto the porch as the Nemesis sat back on its knees, raised its left arm, tentacles jutting forward, and swung its tentacles out in a low side-way sweep, aiming to knock him off his feet and grab his leg once again, which it would have done had he not moved.

Once he was back on the porch, Hunk quickly swung the Linear Launcher from his back, held it tightly in his hands as best as he could under its heavy weight, placed the end of the barrel against his shoulder to keep it steady, snapped down the small scope at the side and aimed at the Nemesis.

"Go to Hell," he muttered under his breath.

The Nemesis roared in absolute fury and he pulled the trigger.

In that split second that Hunk had pulled the trigger, he felt the launcher grow incredibly hot, the entire weapon soaring from the cool metallic temperature to the scolding warmth of a metal being put over an open flame, the heat strong enough to burn through his gloves and uniforms to scold the skin beneath, then a massive ball of white light snapped from the chamber, one so bright Hunk immediately shut his eyes as it flashed across his visor, encompassing the night-vision into a harsh glare and bringing tears to his eyes, the force from the shot propelling him back a few meters and almost knocking him off his feet. The great ball of energy then soared at an incomprehensible speed, almost like a shooting star flashing in the empty void of space, making Hunk believe that he hadn't even seen it himself, and slammed into the Nemesis that continued to roar out in rage at Hunk.

What Hunk saw next made his heart stop.

Upon contact, the light enveloped the enormous BOW, the creature disappearing into a shroud of white brightness that illuminated the entire area around them that Hunk could see all the tiniest details, even those that were oblivious to the human eye at first glance, then the light gradually faded away, the burning sensation of its shine growing smaller and smaller until the BOW it had attacked sat in its place, seemingly unaffected.

Hunk assumed then that it hadn't worked, that the weapon itself backfired and had no effect on the BOW, but he soon discarded those thoughts as he continued to stare at the Nemesis, his mind blanking out in an instant at the next spectacle.

Because, as he dumbly watched from where he stood rigidly in position, the Nemesis started to expand, its flesh bubbling ferociously like boiling water in a pan, its skin popping and churning around from the inside into many little mountain peaks that rocked in an invisible earthquake, its stomach bloating outwards and onwards from whatever pushed inside it. The Nemesis' roar still rang loud throughout the entire spectacle, in fact growing louder with every note, but the tone had changed drastically; instead of infinite rage, there was perpetual agony, its body squirming and limbs spasming profusely as its stomach expanded more and more.

Eventually, the creature's torso grew so large that Hunk noticed cuts, abrasions and cracks appear in the monster's pale flesh; but, when he glanced inside the widening cracks, Hunk saw no flesh or bone or blood or muscle tissue inside.

He saw a white light. A light that shone at a dim glow which grew in intensity the more it struggled to free itself from the flesh. Then, Hunk realized why the ball of energy he had fired at the BOW had vanished before because it didn't really vanish nor did the weapon fail.

The light had diffused into the creature's flesh and was pushing out against from the inside.

Soon, the light shone brighter and brighter, the dim glow changing into a blazing miniature sun that could be seen clearly through even the monster's pale flesh and the Nemesis' body continued to stretch out further, the cuts and cracks widening under the strain, its agonizing howl becoming a warbled, choke cry-

-until, finally, like a balloon pumped full of too much air, the Nemesis Mark I, the pride and joy of Umbrella's Tyrant series production, one of the most powerful BOWs ever created, exploded with a sound that escaped any form of noise he knew and an all-encompassing flash of starlight.

Hunk felt himself literally fly off the porch, his body heaved up from the ground and thrown effortlessly across the clearing by the force of the blast where he landed by the base of a sturdy pine tree, the enormous ball of pure energy blinding him and forcing him to close his eyes, his ears shrieking in pain and wracking his head with a painful migraine.

He lay there under the tree for time unaccounted for, his senses shut down, his mind blank, his body numb and silent, his eyes shut and ears deaf to the world around him, seeming to relax in a peaceful sleep amongst the natural environment. However, inside his mind, it was dark. An endless chasm of darkness that blocked out everything around him and that was a part of him, one that he found no escape from nor did any sign of it ending.

Although, it was only dispersed or disturbed by dreams, vague images and muted sounds that swam gently through the darkness around him, yet he failed to recognize when they passed and let them simply spin away, leaving him alone in the silence.

The more time he spent in the dark, the more he liked it and the more he felt like succumbing to it, to simply relax and leave behind everything else that he had before in his life, back when he was in the light, the comforting feel and absence of pain alluring to his exhausted person.

But, somewhere in the darkness, he heard something call out to him, from way out in the darkness that surrounded him. He strained to listen for the noise, to pick up the tiny call that cried out for him, yet he lacked the energy to do so and simply abandoned it as exhaustion tricking him into putting more effort on futile attempts to escape the dark, returning again to the comfort of his peaceful slumber.

Then, it came again, only louder and more closer this time, loud enough that he could make out what it was.

It was a voice, from whom he had no idea, but it was there. Indefinitely.

Spurred with curiosity by the voice that spoke to him, he listened for it again, forcing his ears to listen for the voice and determine what it was saying, to find out who it was, ignoring the fatigue and exhaustion the effort brought down on him. Nothing came to him when he made an attempt to find the voice, the faint call fading away into the silent shadows around him, no matter how hard he tried to listen for it, but when he felt inclined to give up, it came again, stronger and clearer.

In the haze wrapped around his mind and awareness, Hunk heard words. Words in the voice. Words directed to him. Muffled nouns and verbs that carried along the gentle voice to his exhausted hearing, trying to register in his mind and make sense so he could understand what was being said.

He tried to catch all of the words, tried to make sense of what they were and what the voice was trying to tell him, but the fatigue was too strong to overcome and the exhaustion too thick to hold off any longer, his will growing weaker against the pressure that mounted against him and he felt himself drift slowly back to sleep, the voice fading away again into the darkness.

_Snap out of it, soldier!! Focus!_

Hunk felt his entire being snap awake at the harsh command of the voice, not the one calling out to him in the dark, but in a far corner of his mind, a reserved place that seemed untouched by the drowsiness that coiled around him, and he tried listening again, focusing only on the voice and drowning out the siren songs of his tired form yearning for him to sleep, an enormous conservation of energy flooding through him and revitalizing his tired persona to rebel against the dark.

Gradually, the voice became even more stronger, more clearer, drawing closer to him and increasing in volume that he was soon able to hear the words.

"Calling USF teams Alpha through Delta, this is UBCS Supervisor, 1st Lieutenant Jacque D'Mont broadcasting on all frequencies. Respond please!! Over," the voice cried out. A man's voice. A voice that echoed out to him with a faint hissing noise.

The words resounded throughout Hunk's mind and he scoured his thoughts for the meaning behind what it was they were saying to him, but he drew a blank. Somehow, they just didn't make sense to him, despite that he could clearly hear them and his mind acknowledged their presence, and he just couldn't understand why he felt drawn to them anyway; he had originally thought it was asking for him and he had struggled to hear the words so he could find out what the man's voice wanted from him, but listening to them now, he knew it couldn't be for him.

The names it asked for didn't sound for him and he certainly didn't remember anyone called that. But why he felt drawn to them...it was all beyond him or his understanding.

Suddenly, an image appeared before him, a dream. It was one of the few that had flashed past him earlier, but it was clearer this time and he could see what it was showing him before, the sounds echoing clearly in his ears, stirring the memories deep within his head. As the image played on, Hunk felt something distant, something in the darkness around him and he felt its reached out toward him with soft gentle tendrils, tugging at him timidly in calling for him to follow, to come with them, to follow the voice that was still calling out to him incessantly.

The dream repeated several times to him, the images and sounds constantly re-rolling to play again, desperately trying to help him understand what was happening to him, what the voice was saying to him, and he could feel his memories responding to the dreams, feel its stirring in his subconscious and attempt to reach out for the dream, to grasp it and make the connection, but it just wouldn't settle in anymore. It didn't make any sense to him and he was too tired to think anymore.

It was all too confusing for him right then.

Deciding to finally give up, Hunk discarded the dreams, letting the images spin away and the sounds fade into silence, and let his mind grow quiet, lulling himself into a deep sleep-

-when, with a simple flash of bright light that shone through the darkness that surrounded him, his memories flooded through his mind like a vast tidal wave, overwhelming his senses with an enormous mountain of his recent memories, all of them images and sounds related to the dream he had just before, referring to what the voice had been trying to tell him since it first appeared to him from the darkness.

Under the torrent of rapidly flowing memories, his awareness struggled to control the speed that they soared through his head, to slow down them so that it could interpret them and figure out what it was they were showing, what they were forcing him to remember and he felt his head throb painfully from the full force of the onslaught by the soaring array of images and noises bombarding his senses.

Finally though, after his awareness had brought the blurring surge of the memories to a more comfortable pace and his senses were freed enough for him to interpret what it was they were saying, Hunk's entire body burned with an awesome surge of energy that cascaded throughout his tired mind, wounded senses and sore body as he realized what it all meant, what the images and sounds were, what the voice was saying and where it was coming from. And more importantly, why it was so relevant to him.

_The radio!_

From the wave of memories that had charged through his mind, Hunk realized that, during the skirmish with the Nemesis Mark I, from when it appeared until he had fallen into the darkness, he had neglected to switch off his radio, leaving it open for him to hear the chatter of his comrades should they get separated and to convey his orders more easily and he was now being contacted by the UBCS, probably for more information on what had happened on their mission and why they hadn't called in at all since their arrival.

A furious debate soon sparked inside his mind, one that was fought between the voice of his mind and the siren voice of the darkness, both of them wanting conflicting interests for Hunk as he lay there, unable to speak up yet still hearing everything; the darkness wanted him to stay, to surrender and just lay down where he was for all the time he had, to simply throw it all away and remain in the comfort of its ululations; however, his awareness demanded him to focus, to stick to his principles, to push out with all his strength, to use everything he had learned in training and smash through this dilemma for the success of his mission, which was now the tranquil glow that marked the borders between the darkness and where he had been moments ago.

Lying there though in simple bliss, he couldn't make up his mind. Win or lose? Success or failure? Complete the mission or surrender to defeat? Fulfill his duty or give it up for the peace he had now? He lacked the definitive point, the part that would determine what his decision should be, what the right one was to take and he struggled effortlessly to think of what was the best option to use. But his awareness, stern, strict, professional and never failing, provided him with the one point that made him choose.

_Stop being so afraid, rookie. Follow your principles and you will succeed. It's the one truth in the world and you know it._

Hunk, understanding vividly what it was awareness was telling him, began to reach out for the light, struggling furiously against the tight restraints of the darkness as it called him back to it, to stay within the confines of his silent prison and remain where he was in solitude, but he pressed on and on, one hand held towards the thin barrier that rested between the darkness and whatever lay beyond.

Drawing closer to the tranquil barrier, Hunk felt his body start to resist, his bones turning rigid and unable to bend, his muscles hardening over them like a cement and weighing him down, causing to tire in his struggles, forcing him to return where he was before, the fatigue and exhaustion rushing back to grip him tightly. But, despite how much his body protested from the exhaustion and fatigue that clamped onto him, growing louder and stronger the more he fought for the barrier, he continued towards it with a single minded-determination, his awareness spurring him on with words that bordered between encouraging statements and harsh orders. Eventually, Hunk felt the gentle tendrils that had been reaching out for him grasp hold of him firmly and timidly, and he felt himself being hoisted out from the darkness towards the barrier, the siren calls of the darkness becoming naught but shrieks of rage that, shattering through it and traversing into the area beyond.

Having won out and proving that he was still very much alive, Hunk opened his eyes.

The first thing that greeted was pain. A sea of pain that engulfed his entire body. He was bruised, battered and all over, his side and right arm hurting especially from the attacks he sustained before, his head throbbing painfully and with loud resonating crashes that shook his skull endlessly, accompanied by the painful shrilling tones of the ringing in his ears and his eyes burned from the sudden illumination brought on by his night-vision, his vision washing over a wave of white light that faded away into a multitude of colors flickering all across his eyesight.

"USF teams Alpha through to Delta!! Respond immediately!! What the hell is happening out there!?! Mon Dieu, answer, goddammit!" D'Mont demanded through the radio.

Hunk reached up with his right hand and weakly pressed it against the transmit button, gritting his teeth against the pain that passed through it. "Alpha-4 here. What's up?" he answered in a frail wavering voice, struggling to speak the words with the burning in his throat.

"Ah, Mon Dieu!! C'est genial to hear from you again after so long. We just saw an explosion in your vicinity. Have you destroyed the Nemesis Mark I?" D'Mont asked in a hurried tone.

"I'm not sure. I was out of it for a while there," he replied. He then gave off a weak chuckle, though the noise sounded more like a wheezy breath. "Almost crossed over to the other side and damn near wanted to. Well, I'll have a look out for it, see if anything is left standing."

Hunk slowly sat up, groaning loudly from the aches and pains that stung his body from the effort, gently raising himself up until he was in a sitting position on the ground, rapidly blinking his eyes to remove the spots of color that flickered across his vision for a few seconds, the throbbing in his head increasing greatly as he brought his head forward, his stiff neck making it even harder to move. When his vision finally recovered and the ringing had ceased in his ears, his throbbing ache subsiding into a small tingle at the back of his skull, Hunk got to his feet on unsteady legs, placing his right hand on the wall to keep balance until he was sturdy enough to walk unhindered and took small steps across the porch to where he had last seen the Nemesis, partly to be cautious should it still be alive and somewhat, whilst the other reason was not to put too much pressure or strain on his injuries.

It took him some time to make it across the porch, his legs failing to respond to the messages his brain sent to them and the pain he felt made it hard to move that much as he walked; he even nearly tripped on the corpses of Delta-3 and Dubois when he passed them, and had almost fell flat on his face, but he luckily managed to catch himself before that happened, since he wasn't really sure he would get back up if he hit the floor again. However, he soon made it across the porch to where the Nemesis' last position was-

_Lord Almighty!_

-and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that, in the place of the Tyrant-class BOW he had seen beforehand, all that was there was a large puddle of steaming violet splattered all across the ground with large and small pieces of muscle, bone or flesh floating in the blood like pieces of wood in a pond, several small lines of steam floating gently into the air and disappearing in the soft breeze that blew through the area.

The entire scene looked like an accident with a yogurt put in a microwave and left in there too long with a high temperature, only ten times bigger.

Looking down at his feet, Hunk saw the Linear Launcher lying there on the porch, the small charge bar on the barrel blinking bright red and giving off a faint red klaxon, indicating it needed to be recharged before use again, and he tentatively reached down to pick it up, but drew his hand back when he almost burned his fingers on it, the temperature of the weapon having risen to a scolding heat.

"Damn powerful gun this was. Fucker didn't stand up to it," he muttered under his breath, glancing between the fallen weapon and the puddle of blood that once was the Nemesis.

"Sorry, Alpha-4. Please repeat that," D'Mont asked over the radio.

"Oh, never mind. Just some thinking aloud," he responded curtly. He then cleared his throat. "Anyway, the Nemesis Mark I is dead. 100% certainty."

The sigh that came afterward summed up how relieved everyone was. "Excellente, mon frere. I'll send a helicopter over to your position ASAP and we'll bring you back here for debriefing. The Executive Board and Mr Spencer will be pleased to know that the situation has been rectified before anything worse could have transpired. We'll commence clean-up shortly upon your return and erase all evidence of the infection, and any possible link to the corporation."

"Be careful though," Hunk warned. "We encountered some local wildlife that had been infected by the T-Virus strain in the BOW's body and, although we wiped out the majority here, there may still be some infected in the immediate area, so watch yourself."

"Understood. D'Mont out."

Hunk switched off the radio and pulled out his pistol, checking the magazine was full then he walked over to one of the bodies, pointing the weapon at its head. Although he knew that the UBCS were on their way and that they were going to eliminate any infected still in the area, Hunk didn't feel like leaving any possible infected around in the area for when the chopper arrived because that could be disastrous for everything and the last thing they needed was another outbreak after they had just stopped one already. Besides, he didn't feel like taking the risk of waiting for a helicopter for God knows how long when there were infected in the area and take the awful chance of allowing one of them to bite him after he had just finished a mission.

As he raised the pistol and pointed it at Dubois' head, the doctor's corpse let out a low moan of hunger and looked up at him with milky-white eyes, reaching a pale hand out to grab him. Hunk pulled the trigger. He went around and put a bullet into the heads of each of the bodies in and around the cabin, making sure that should they be infected, they wouldn't be getting back up and pose a threat to him, except for Delta-3 since, as he had already been shot through the head once, he thought it was rather redundant to put another bullet through his shattered brain when he knew that he wasn't coming back. Once he was sure that the bodies were dead and staying that, he waited silently outside for the chopper to arrive, sitting himself down on the porch and taking off his helmet, allowing him to breathe in the pure fresh air without the filtering effect of the respirator and wipe away the sheen of sweat from his forehead, the breeze a cool soothing balm to his hot and flushed face from all the running he had been doing, the pain in his limbs calming down and the aches of his muscles relaxing from the release of pressure they had endured.

The clearing was silent as Hunk sat waiting patiently for the chopper to arrive, his mind blank and devoid of his thoughts, his body making a slow recovery from the aches and pains that sprouted all over, relishing the brief moment of rest he had from after the mission and that skirmish against the Nemesis, enjoying the peaceful silence around him and feeling the cool breeze on his hot skin, his ears picking up the soft sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves on the soft wind, closing his eyes and taking a deep cleansing breath to calm his nerves from the adrenaline surge that died down in his bloodstream.

A thought popped into his mind that reminded of how similar the environment around him was to the darkness he had found himself immersed in earlier and Hunk shivered in fright, snapping his eyes open and keeping himself very much awake. That time had been a little too close for when he had come to crossing over into Death and thinking about that moment absolutely petrified him, due to the fact that his fear of dying overwhelmed most of his emotions and it was the founding factor behind all of his established principles.

Disregarding any thought on that dark pit he had been trapped in earlier and the cold fingers of Death almost reaching out for him, Hunk went back to waiting, placing his pistol back in his holster and sitting on the porch, gazing around the clearing at the flowers and bushes that swayed in the breeze, watching the leaves slowly fall to the floor and merge with the ground, silent and cautious, just in case of any other possible threats. Even though his mission was a success, he couldn't let his guard, not until he was on the helicopter and flying back to base for treatment, decontamination and debriefing from Colonel McVarian.

15 minutes had gone by, fifteen minutes of silent waiting and sitting on the porch of the cabin, watching the surrounding forest around him and keeping his finely-tuned senses alert for signs danger, before his ears picked up the faint rapidly clapping sounds of a helicopter's rotor blades off far in the distance, the sound growing louder and deeper as it drew closer, until the large metallic body of the helicopter loomed overhead, its rotor moving in a fast rapid blur, causing a downdraft of wind that scattered leaves and dirt across the clearing in a cloud of dust, forcing Hunk to shield his eyes from the clouds as the helicopter slowly descended.

Before the metal rails could touch down, the hatches slid open and several men leaped out from the cargo hatch, all of them wearing bright white bio-hazard protection suits, carrying what looked like some large animal tasers, rifles and flamethrowers, whilst some carried large metal cases, probably science equipment for examination of any possible infection traces and to retrieve any valauble samples or research data to be brought back to the corporation's laboratories for further study. As the men in the bio-hazard suits hurried about the clearing, some disappearing into cabin and others examining the large puddle of blood that had been the Nemesis, the rest running off into the woods in small groups, Hunk walked over to the helicopter and hoisted himself inside, dunking his weapons and equipment on the floor before he took a seat by the hatch, strapping his seatbelt on with a small click that he barely heard over the helicopter blades.

"You alright, mate?" the pilot asked, looking over his shoulder at Hunk.

Hunk nodded grimly.

"Where are the others?" he asked.

"Dead," Hunk replied bluntly.

"All of them!?! Even the squad commanders!?! Jesus wept! That makes you the only survivor of this incident. How the Hell did you make it?" the pilot asked incredulously.

Hunk simply smiled at the man and repeated his saying to him, the saying that helped him understand everything that had happened to him since his first mission, that explained how he was able to cope with the fear during all the dangers and horrors he encountered, that justified all his principles and allowed him to fight on through his mission without due error, injury or fear. And it helped to explain how he had changed on his missions, how his mind adapted and was able to focus clearly on the task at hand without the fear of Death looming over him and to reveal what it was that kept him alive through his arduous duties because it was the one single truth in the world, the single silver line of light in the storm clouds that overcast his thoughts, and there was no possible way for anyone to deny what it claimed.

"The Death cannot die," he answered calmly, resting his back against his seat.

The pilot stared back at Hunk, an eyebrow arched at his answer, the expression on his face easy to register his confusion, but he simply shook his head dismissively and sighed, turning back to the windscreen.

"Whatever, man. At least you're still alive. Anyway, time to get you back to base. Colonel McVarian is waiting for an update and he wants to speak to any surviving USF soldiers in the area that were involved in the assigned mission. Basically, he wants to talk to you," the pilot explained, pulling back on the joystick and lifting the helicopter in the air.

Hunk didn't hear the man because, in the comfort of his chair and having completed his mission, he had let himself fall into a slight doze, letting his body relax and recover from all the injuries he had sustained, slumping in his seat and breathing quietly in his slumber. Although he knew that it wouldn't take too long for the helicopter to return to base and that he was to report immediately to the Colonel for a debriefing on the entire mission, from what had happened to any relevant information that Umbrella would need to know about the incident, including anything that was related to the Nemesis Mark I, he needed to rest after everything he had endured, what with his near-death experience and all the injuries he had suffered during that fight with the Nemesis, to relieve some of the stress and calm down his injuries to quell the throbbing pain he felt all over.

As Hunk fell asleep and relaxed in his seat, his muscle losing tension, his blood dispelling the adrenaline that flowed within his veins, his head slumping against his shoulder and his heart beat slowing down to a more comfortable speed, the helicopter hovered a few inches over the ground, its rotor blades churning up more clouds of leaves, dust and dirt, then it slowly rose into the sky, passing up over the trees and into the sky, branches chipped slightly by the spinning rotor blades as it made its way up out of the clearing, and it banked away from the clearing, flying off into the sky and leaving the vast woodland behind it, the silence that enveloped the natural environment only broken by the howl of a hungry animal or the sharp crack of a gunshot...

**Hey everyone!! I have finally finished the next chapter of my fic!!**

**I have to say that I am really sorry making you all wait to the new year for the chapter!! Things have been really hectic and wanted to ensure that I had written this chapter to the best of my abilities and that it was still written out very well for you all to enjoy.**

**Anyway, the reason this chapter took quite long was because, as I am nearing the end of the backstory and will soon be writing about the STARS teams during the Pre-Mansion period, I have to explain the last few remaining details of the games and to lay down the final foundations for the storylines in the games on my later fics.**

**This chapter was important because it explains everything about the Nemesis, how it was created, what made it and what the final product was, in order to establish its longer and more terrifying role in the Raccoon City outbreak. Also, this chapter serves as the explanation to why Umbrella begins the development of the TALOS project later in the timeline during REUC and what were the reasons behind it, so I hope all the scientific details are easy to understand and that they make sense.**

**Finally, I would like to say how appreicative I am for all of the people who have reviewed, favourited or read my story, despite how long they haved to wait for my next update. I really appreciate and am gratefyou have been so patient with me and my fic. Thanks to all of you!**

**Well, I hope you have all enjoyed this latest chapter. Please leave a review if you want to. And stay tund for the next chapter!!!**


	41. Chapter 41

Forty-One

July 31st, 1995.

"Arklay heliport control, this is Helicopter Beta-173 requesting permission to land. Over," the pilot asked, holding the radio up to his lips with one hand as he gently guided the helicopter over the large forest that traversed the mountain range below it, the co-pilot silently checking the many diagnostics displayed on the control panel in front of him and guiding the pilot on-course.

"Beta-173, you have permission to land. Heliport is clear and ready to accept your arrival," the radio responded amidst a hiss of static.

"Roger that, control. Helicopter Beta-173 beginning its approach now," the pilot replied curtly, then put the radio back onto the console, turning his attention back to flying the helicopter over the forest towards their destination.

"Arklay facilities in sight," the co-pilot said, pointing out of the windscreen towards the large mansion of the Spencer Estate that stood out amongst the trees, the lavish stone buildings and walls that adorned the private residence of Umbrella's ruler and remaining founder easy to see in the bright sunshine, even though no sign of life could be seen through the many windows that were fitted in its walls, giving it an ominous and abandoned atmosphere to those from the outside who came to see it.

The pilot looked back into the cabin, glancing up at the single figure who was sitting in one of the seats by the doors, gazing out of the window in silence.

"Sir, we are approaching the Spencer Estate and are about to land shortly. Be sure you take everything you carried on board with you before you leave," he stated, turning back to the windscreen.

Albert Wesker made no response to the pilot apart from a slight nod of his head and went back to looking out of the window, watching the environment outside go past the glass in a blur, waiting patiently for the chopper to land at the heliport. As he stared out the window at the outside world, watching the sun rise high into the clear blue sky that was dotted with small wisps of white clouds, the vast forest landscape down below blossoming fully with a bright assortment of flowers and healthy leaf-covered branches on the variety of trees that sprouted across vast acres around the small bustling city that lay in its center, the birds soaring past the window, Wesker felt strangely relaxed at the sight of the serene and somewhat-tranquil surroundings that he had visited so many times before in his career with the vast pharmaceutical conglomerate, despite how long it had been since he had been there last or the dark and terrible deeds that were committed beneath the sprawling natural cover of woodland, deep within the large buildings nestling inside. It granted him a moment of peace from the world and he simply relaxed to its on his journey.

_We best just get this over with. Spencer expects the matter to be resolved quickly and he is not known for having the good virtue of patience._

The helicopter soon touched onto the heliport at the Spencer Estate, the plush woodland disappearing behind large concrete walls that rose up past the window, the landing rails underneath the cabin emitting a soft thud on the concrete that was barely audible over the rapid clapping sounds of the rotor blades slowing down outside and the engine slowed to a stop, emitting a final whine before it died out. The hatch slid open on its rails when one of the guards pulled it open from the outside and Wesker stepped out onto the concrete ground, straightening his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose as the helicopter's rotor blades started up again behind him, the engine activating with a dull hum that was masked over by the increasingly-faster clatter of the rotors. The helicopter soon rose slowly into the air and banked away from the mansion, flying off into the distance until it could no longer be seen or heard, but Wesker was oblivious to it, ignoring its departure from where he stood silently on the concrete landing platform gazing around at the surroundings, his mind lost in deep thought and recalling the memories of the area from his younger years, during the time he had been required to work there.

_Seventeen years. Has it really been that long since I first came here?_

Wesker simply stood in place in the center of the concrete heliport, momentarily lost in the familiar environment and the brief period of solitude he had to himself as everyone else who was on the heliport simply went about their business as usual, leaving him very much alone. It seemed to be a rather calm summer day, the soft summer breeze blowing through his hair and stroking lightly against his skin, providing a slight cooling sensation to the incredible heat brought on by the humid atmosphere and the bright sun shining above in the clear sky.

Somehow, every time Wesker came to the Spencer Estate, he could easily recall the wind, the variety of scents that flew along the breeze and the burning sensation it caused in his sinuses, sparking his memories to recall the sources behind each of the smells and what it was that struck so firmly with his mind, his ears picking up the faintest of sounds which his mind vividly recalled in great detail over the large time gaps between his visits, and everything about it just didn't seem to be any different whatsoever, no matter how much the seasons changed or the weather morphed into the many choices brought on by their planet's ecosystem. Almost as if nothing had changed at all in the years he had been absent from the mansion, like time stood still in his absence.

But, looking around him on the heliport and from the way the entire facility had seemed from the window of the helicopter where he had been gazing out of in thought during his trip, Wesker saw that very little had in fact changed to the mansion, since the buildings, the layout, the designs and the surrounding environment that shrouded it behind the vast canopy of trees and natural growth were still very much the same compared to when he had first arrived at the mansion on his first assignment after that little 'incident' with James Marcus and his promotion by Lord Spencer to be a Head Researcher on the new Tyrant-Virus projects.

_4 years have gone by upon my reassignment and everything is as I left it back then. I guess somethings never change, as the saying goes._

Once the short walk down memory lane was over and done with, Wesker walked over to the elevator at a brisk pace to head down into the lab facilities underneath the mansion, occasionally reaching up to straighten his sunglasses and brush aside stray bangs of his hair that blew in front of his eyes from the breeze. Spencer hadn't sent him here to simply reminisce about the past few years he had spent working as the Head Researcher for Umbrella's T-Virus Project; he had sent him here to take care off a liability that was beginning to become a nuisance and he was expecting his orders to be fulfilled immediately upon his arrival at the facility.

When he drew closer to the elevator, Wesker heard the faint hum of machinery echo from behind the mesh gates over the soft whistle of the summer breeze and listened as it gradually grew louder when the elevator came closer to the top of the shaft, eventually stopping at the gates with a soft clunk and the gates rattled open on their rails to side; Wesker ignored the first two men that stepped out of the lift, both of them dressed in the traditional blue garb of the technical division and carrying toolboxes in their hands, watching them sternly as they nodded curtly in his direction, recognizing him by his uniform alone and not by his face, despite the fact that he had been working at the Arklay labs for a good few decades and was the man in charge of keeping the laboratories running during the hectic period when their research progress drastically came to a halt, but he couldn't help but let a half smile crawl upon his face at the sight of the other man who walked out of the lift.

Although it had been four years since they had last spoke to each other, let alone met face to face, Wesker could easily recognize William Birkin as he walked out onto the heliport, his messy and unkempt blond hair blowing in the wind, his white lab coat flowing behind him like some form of robe, his clothes heavily creased and his eyes cast down towards the folder in his hands, his mind once again immersed fully into his work as usual. Even with the breeze blowing against him, brushing wildly against his face and pushing stray bangs of his hair in front of his eyes, the papers he held tightly in his hand threatening to fly away into the air, bending the thin sheets roughly to the side in an attempt to catch them in its grip and take them away into the woods, Birkin did not once glance up from what he was reading, keeping the papers firmly in place and vigorously reading over detail printed out on the sheets, oblivious to what was going on around him, even as Wesker approached him at a measured pace, the only sign of life on his composed persona being the small grin on his lips.

"Long time no see, Birkin," Wesker greeted, extending his hand out for Birkin to shake.

At the sound of his voice, Birkin looked up from his work and stared at Wesker in silence for a moment, his expression bland and uncomprehending, then a similar smile crawled on his face.

"Albert. Good to see you again," he responded, tucking his papers beneath one arm and taking Wesker's hand in his, shaking it lightly. "It's been a while."

"4 years apparently," Wesker said simply, as if the time that passed between them wasn't even that long, though he didn't really care about how long it had been since they went their separate ways and he was pretty sure Birkin felt the same way, what with the amount of work he was laundered with.

Birkin nodded and held his hand out towards the elevator, gesturing for Wesker to follow him down into the labs. "Well, Spencer didn't call us both here to chat with each other over old times. We best get this over with; Annette is keeping watch over the laboratories back in Raccoon City to ensure the other staff there continue working on the G-Virus Project and I don't trust those idiots to work on it during my absence. Honestly, sometimes I think the criteria of candidates to become researchers for Umbrella has made a decline over the years since our promotions," he said, his face slowly changing into an expression of contempt as he stepped inside the elevator.

Wesker nodded sternly and followed Birkin inside the elevator, closing the gates shut behind him and pressing the button to head down into the labs, the elevator shuddering briefly then started descending down the shaft with a soft whir and hum of engines. Wesker simply leaned up against one of the glass walls and crossed his arms over his chest in silence, occasionally straightening his sunglasses as he stared blankly at his reflection in the opposite wall, watching Birkin out of the corner of his eye, who had gone back to reading the folder in his hands again.

_Coming back to this very place and meeting an old colleague after so long since we departed on our separate career paths. Seems rather...nostalgic._

When Wesker had received his orders from Spencer to return to the Arklay laboratories, he had assumed that there was an incident in progress over there, that his premonitions about the possibility of the T-Virus escaping from the facilities and spreading throughout the natural wildlife surrounding the large mansion that hid the vast research complex, and he was required to supervise the operation to clean up the mess, which had been part of the criteria for his new career as one of Umbrella's agents in the Monitor Intelligence Division; as one of the agents assigned to the Intelligence Division of Umbrella's espionage forces, the Monitor Organization, Wesker was to perform a certain number of 'trouble-shooting' tasks for the corporation, such as the supervision of all USF missions involving the apprehension and elimination of escaped BOWs, observation on all of Umbrella's employees to ensure that none of their research data was stolen and sold to any rival companies, uncovering any suspicious activities within any facility and the assassination of any potential threats or dangers to the corporation's BOW research and development, so when Spencer had told him he was to be heading there for an assignment, he had assumed that he would be arriving there to take command of a dozen soldiers dressed in black combat gear with bio-hazard equipment and protection to guide them through the operation since he himself had worked at the Arklay laboratories for well over a decade and was more familiar with the layout of the facility, the projects under development there and the current BOWs that were stored there, which would prove valuable information for a clean-up operation if it was to be done with the least amount of trouble.

It had happened before several times already and Umbrella's research was under constant threat of espionage and sabotage from its biggest rivals in the market, all of which Wesker had confirmed during his own investigations into certain incidents that had warranted the deployment of Monitor Agents to quell the situation before it became too desperate.

However, once Spencer had told him what it was required to do there, Wesker understood fully what he wanted to be done and accepted it without hesitation, despite the deep rock it formed in his gut.

_I knew that this would come around eventually. Spencer most certainly knew about it, since he planned on it. Birkin would have known as well, if the thought occurred to him why Spencer wanted him here in the first place._

Birkin, however, was another matter. Despite how long it had been since they had seen each other and the brief feeling of nostalgic he experienced upon meeting his friend again, Wesker wasn't really that surprised to see Birkin at the Arklay laboratories since, even though his efforts were more focused on the G-Virus Project and the limitless potential he seemed to find within it, he was still part of the staff stationed at the Arklay Laboratories as a Consultant Researcher and was obligated by Spencer's command to visit the mansion routinely to supervise over all the new BOW projects under development there.

4 years ago, after Birkin had made the remarkable discovery of the Gene-Virus strain inside the body of the deformed subject Lisa, he had been ecstatic at what he had found and the potential it displayed towards their BOW research, according to what little preliminary examinations and simulations he had performed on the strain during his spare time. Thus, when Spencer had arrived at the Arklay facilities again on par with his routine inspections of the experiments and research being conducted into the Tyrant Project, Birkin had leaped onto the chance to present his findings on the G-Virus to Spencer for him to evaluate, pushing forward his proposition to transfer all his endeavors into further study on the Gene strain, which Spencer approved of and granted him full-permission to continue his research in order to determine whether or not the G-Virus could create a suitable BOW for combat, so long as Spencer and the board were constantly informed and up-to-speed with every new development made into the research. However, after a few weeks of study, Birkin had grown frustrated with the lack of results made into his research, the inability of his staff to adapt to the new project and the lack of suitable resources to work with, and he sent a request to Spencer for the permission to have a new facility to be developed for him to continue his work on the G-Virus, one that had to be outfitted with all the most advanced technology the corporation could offer, all of the resources that he had listed to be used in his research and a whole staff of employees that he selected himself.

Soon afterwards, Spencer authorized the construction of a vast laboratory complex underneath an abandoned industrial warehouse that was stationed on a plot of land inside Raccoon City that had been purchased by Umbrella for use in pharmaceutical storage. Once the construction was finished, Spencer had all of the G-Virus research moved to the facility where the project would now be placed under development with Birkin and his wife assigned as the Head Researchers, equipped with all of the advanced pieces of technology Umbrella owned and manned by over fifty scientists, in addition to the security and technicians. In addition, due to the increasing amount of rejected BOWs and failed test subjects needed for disposal, and with the Treatment Plant built in the Arklay Mountains still closed down after what had happened with Marcus, Spencer had a new disposal site built on the outskirts of Raccoon City near the woods by the park, once again on a piece of private land bought from the corporation's funding

However, Birkin was still inclined to make routine visits to the Arklay facilities in order to oversee the experiments and research on the T-Virus still being made, and to supervise all new BOW projects that had been approved by Spencer and the board for production.

According to some of the research data that Wesker had read on during his spare time, several BOW projects, either successful, pending evaluation, under further development or failed, had passed through and been tested in the Arklay facilities for quite some time, most of them sent to the disposal facilities or others kept in storage at the Arklay labs for further study depending on how Spencer and the board's opinion stood, which Birkin had been required to supervise, due to his position as a Consultant Researcher and his expertise on the research as the man who 'officially' developed the T-Virus.

One of them had been the highly-anticipated Chimera Project that had been under a lot of consideration; back when the Tyrant Project had reached a stand-still and the research staff were unable to produce any suitable results on the Project, due to the many flaws that surfaced and hindered the Tyrant production, some of the Arklay research staff had opted to test out a new theory they had made upon the T-Virus research, more specifically down to the method they had used to create the Hunter class BOWs; as they had managed to create the Hunters by implanting reptilian DNA into a fertilized ovum to form a base-hybrid, then injecting the T-Virus into it to enhance its abilities to create the final product, the staff believed they could use this method to create a new form of BOW by using a different sample of DNA as the primary base, namely that of insects.

Spencer, despite his convictions and strict demands for all of their efforts to be made into perfecting the T-Virus' kill-rate and finding solutions to the problems involved in the Tyrant production, realized that very little progress was being made into th T-Virus research due to the lack of suitable specimens needed to become Tyrants and the research staff needed to focus their efforts onto a new venture their research was to get back on track, so he approved the project and ordered that Birkin supervise the project, conduct a combat simulation to test their effectiveness in battle and report all results directly to the board via the communication network.

The project was a success and Birkin reported that the staff had created a dozen Chimera BOWs for the corporation by using the same method that had been responsible for producing the Hunters and the combat simulations that the new BOWs had been run through demonstrated that the Chimeras showed quite a bit of potential to be used in battle and showed some promise in their research because, as the Chimeras were a hybrid of human and insect DNA, they had the ability to walk across walls and ceilings with the minimum of difficulty, possessed multiple limbs tipped with sharp claws that they used to rend their opponents apart and were small enough to use any narrow passageways to their advantage in ambushing their prey. However, there were still some flaws to be found in the BOWs that diminished their promise for Umbrella; it seemed that, despite the administration of fly DNA and the T-Virus into their bodies, the Chimeras hadn't been able to develop wings or the ability of flight as their exoskeleton failed to fully develop due to their bodies were riddled with swarms of maggots that fed off pieces of their bodies during growth, leaving them susceptible to gunfire, and, despite some glimpses that showed actions of higher-brain activity and resilience, their intelligence barely rivaled that of an insect since they were rather territorial and only came out of their nests to attack any intruders, thus they had no ability to understand orders; additionally, in the event that the BOW is killed, their bodies would undergo a serious mitotic reaction due to the T-Virus' regenerative going hyperactive, as it had been recorded before in other BOW models and secondary-infected humans that turned into the 'Crimson Heads' as the staff came to refer them by, and suffer a massive cellular breakdown that would cause their bodies to disintegrate, leaving behind no trace of its existence, a useful trait to use for any clean-up operation but it also greatly lowered in its effectiveness as a BOW.

In response to these findings, the Arklay researchers were quite apprehensive at the prospect of showing the results as they had hoped to create a more efficient BOW to show to Spencer in order to get the T-Virus research back on track after it had hit the massive standstill with the Tyrant Project and were afraid of how he would react to what little progress they had made as it did very little in general to put their T-Virus research back on track; instead, Spencer ordered for the Chimeras to be placed in storage and have all of the research transferred to Umbrella's Asian Branch for further study and development whilst he put it under evaluation on whether it was sufficient enough for mass-production, assigning the Arklay labs to focus their endeavors on either any new BOW theories and suggestions they had to offer or to find the solution required to deal with the Tyrant series.

Another project that had been conducted during his absence was the failed PlCr-218 program, or the 'Plague Crawler' BOWs as they were designated. It seemed, with the Chimera's potential still under observation and with the successfully produced BOWs stored safely in the Level B3 labs, some of the Arklay staff predicted that, by using insect DNA as the base genetic coding in their work, they might have managed to create a different BOW class to be used in combat; with this in mind, the scientists took samples from several insect specimens, cultivating them over a long period of time to expose the superior and dominant genetic traits, then, using the gene-splicing method uncovered by the Human Genome Project, they manipulated the DNA samples and injected them with the T-Virus to form a single organism. Those creatures produced from the experiments were called the Plague Crawlers, in reference to the Great Plague of London being spread by fleas, which was essentially the same thing with these giant insects possessing the world's most deadliest biological weapon that could spread anywhere it could once another life form was wounded. However, the BOWs themselves were found to be useless in heavy combat since the T-Virus caused too much of a genetic imbalance in the monsters that made them slow in speed, even though they could jump a few feet in distance, left them with an under-developed exoskeleton that could be penetrated by even small-arms fire and with a diminished level of intelligence. In conclusion, Spencer and the board deemed the Plague Crawlers unsatisfactory for their research and ordered the staff to have them sent to the Raccoon Disposal facility for termination.

The Lurkers were enough such failed project. Apparently, in an attempt to cover all the bases on what could happen should the T-Virus infect an amphibian, the Arklay research team, led by Martin Crackhorn, decided to conduct a test to establish the effects the virus would have on a member of the amphibian family that they chose to be a frog. The resulting BOW was an overgrown frog with a highly-adapted sense of hearing, a hardened skin that was almost impervious to gunfire, a tongue that was as thick as a rope and could stretch over many feet to reach its target, where it would pull it in and use its digestive system to swallow a human being whole. However, despite their unique qualities and abilities, the Lurkers were deemed practically useless for live combat, as it had demonstrated during the combat simulations against other BOWs because, not only was it effectively blind (hence its improved sense of hearing as a compensation) and had very limited intelligence, making it prone to attack anything that came near it blindly without orders, it was also pathetic against live gunfire since a single gunshot, no matter whether it was aimed at them or not, terrified them so much that they immediately attempted to flee the area by seeking the nearest source of water. Thus, Spencer and the board voted unanimously that the Lurkers were far too flawed to be considered BOWs, sending them to the Treatment Plant for storage and disposal.

Then there were the Eliminators. With the amount of research they had on how the T-Virus worked on all mammalian species, including humans, which were instrumental in determining the virus' efficiency as a biological weapon and to begin the creation of most of the BOWs, mainly the Tyrants, Birkin decided to try using the T-Virus again on mammals to create a new BOW that they might be able to use as research material to base with on the Tyrant Project, due to the fact that Tyrants were mammals themselves and possessed the genetic coding that was similar to other mammals, including brain cell structure. The proposed specimen to use in this new venture was the one animal that Charles Darwin had proved were the ancestors of humanity through his Evolutionary theory; primates.

As soon as Spencer had allowed Birkin to divert some small time away from his research on the G-Virus, Umbrella's African Division sent several live baboons to the Arklay facility along with all the research and combat data they had on the animals' mutations from the Progenitor Virus, since two whole teams had been wiped out by secondary-infected baboons during the outbreak in Africa and several of the surviving carriers from the SDS detonation had been captured for further study after the initial decontamination of the area, and Birkin immediately began the experiments as soon as he possibly could, his work-pace growing fast and slightly disorganized as it had before, though Wesker was sure that it was more down to impatience than enthusiasm. Upon administration of the T-Virus into the animals, the primates soon developed a rapid increase in strength, agility, stamina and aggression, due to the hyperactive production of excessive muscle tissue brought on the T-Virus mutations, which caused large tears to open up on the BOW's skin, exposing the muscles underneath, which made them into efficient and deadly killers. However, Spencer deemed that the Eliminators were below Umbrella's standards because, due to the necrotic effect of the T-Virus, the subjects' brain cells went into massive decay which inevitably decreased its overall intellect and left it unable to follow orders, and had them sent to the Treatment Plant for storage whilst all research was again transferred over to Umbrella's Asian Branch.

The reason behind Birkin's rekindled interest in the effects that the T-Virus had on mammalian creatures was due in a large part to the discovery of what could potentially happen to an infected human, or 'zombie' as they were known to be called for their appearance, when it would mutate further into a Crimson Head, but it was determined that, should the T-Virus still possess enough energy to continue its hyper-regenerative state, it would cause additional mutations that would transcend to a third or even a fourth stage.

When Birkin had first discovered the existence of a second-stage mutation in secondary-infected carriers, he had become intrigued by the prospect of what might happen should the T-Virus' regenerative abilities force the carrier beyond the newly-produced Crimson Heads, more commonly known as the V-ACT process, but Spencer had quickly denounced that idea and once more thrust Birkin forcefully back on his studies to locate the solution that Umbrella needed to finally perfect the virus' kill ratio and to get the Tyrant Project back to working at an efficient pace to create a more intelligent Tyrant-BOW. Consecutively, with the Tyrant research now running forward smoothly again and Birkin having moved his research to a more suitable laboratory, he donated some of his staff to conduct more examination on the V-ACT process in zombies and Crimson Heads, and had them test his theory on what would happen should the T-regenerative abilities progress further from a second stage.

And with luck, Birkin's theory turned out positive and a new BOW was created from the V-ACT, code-named 'Licker'.

It turned out that, should a Crimson Head survive past the second stage of the V-ACT process with little or no damage, the T-Virus' regenerative abilities would actually begin to strengthen the host by repairing the remaining damaged cells left in the host by sacrificing others to supply enough energy to supply the T-mitochondria inside the damaged cells in order to activate the regeneration; this is shown by the method in which the Crimson Head begins to suffer a much more severe case of necrosis that begins to cause more of its exterior skin to flake away, revealing more and more muscle tissue until it completely loses its skin, rendering the creature into what looked a human whom had been flayed alive, exposing its entire muscular structure; it is also evident in its senses where, due to the normal effect the virus has on a host's eyes, the traditional dilated gaze and milky-white pupils that gave them the essence of death, the virus eats away at the ocular nerves and cell structure in the eyes, rendering the Licker blind but uses the energy derived from the mitosis to activate the mitochondria in its cells to repair its auditory nerves, thus providing it with a highly-attuned hearing as a compensation to its total loss of vision. With the T-Virus' necrotic effect eating away at the exterior layer of epidermal cells to retrieve energy for regeneration, the muscle structure itself is repaired to an exceptional level that it grants the BOW the ability to leap great distances and large heights that match those capable only by the Hunters and possibly the Tyrants, increasing its agility and muscle flexibility to adapt to different battlefield conditions in order to overcome its enemies, namely allowing to resist small-arms fire for a small duration of time and to scale through vents without trouble.

But most notable of the V-ACT process is, with the massive amount of energy put into repairing the damaged muscle tissue, the creature's tongue is elongated to a rather far length that it can be used as a whip in combat, either to wrap itself around key parts of the body and rip them apart or to impale them like a lance, hence the name it was designated with. In addition, due to the hyper-regenerative actions of the infection, the Lickers bone structure is both strengthened and mutated to an extent that the claws noted on the Crimson Heads are elongated to a length of about half a foot, which it uses to scale up walls and across the ceilings with the minimal of difficulty by grasping hold of the surfaces; however, this too has its drawback since, as the T-Virus was required to produce suitable amounts of energy to continue this process, the skull of the BOW degrades from the mitosis caused in its cells and degenerates the bone structure that most of the muscle tissue on its head falls, fully exposing its brain and providing a crippling weakness that can be used as an exploit to eliminate it before it can cause any damage to any creature that wandered into its path, thus rendering its abilities only to be used for stealth strikes against located prey.

Whether the Lickers could be classified as an astounding success or a catastrophic failure was yet to be determined, but when Spencer had been briefed on the Lickers and the results of the multitude of tests that Birkin had performed on them to evaluate their suitability as a BOW, he actually voiced his opinion that the Lickers may hold some benefits towards their research, since they provided insight into aspects of the T-Infection that hadn't been considered before and could be used as future reference material towards the T-Virus research in regards to effectively creating new stages of BOWs from the current criteria they possessed, so he ordered for them to be put under further examination at Birkin's Raccoon Facility and to mass-produce them on par to have them sent to other divisions for usage there. Birkin, being as competitive and fueled by personal pride in his work, was reluctant to send away some of his work to other 'incompetent' scientist in Umbrella's multiple global branches and argued with Spencer about the order, claiming that all future examinations and experimentations were to be performed under the original science team, but he soon agreed with Spencer's orders when he was reminded that all research was available to all sections of Umbrella's facilities to use as material and guidance in new ventures, no matter what the circumstances may be.

Wesker had to admit that the Lickers did hold some potential to improve their progress on the T-Virus research because, if the T-Virus could cause the simple carriers to mutate into BOWs such as the Lickers, then there was the distinct possibility that a similar reaction could occur in other BOWs, such as the Hunters and the Chimeras, or even the Tyrants.

In regards to the Tyrant series, it seemed that Umbrella's massive obstacle that had impeded their research progress had finally been removed as they had managed to locate a worthwhile solution to one of the biggest flaws concerning the BOWs and the board had put forward the demand for immediate mass-production, using what little suitable candidates they had to manufacture into the third-class fighting machines.

Apparently, due to new revelations in both the Nemesis Project and the Tyrant Program that had been presented to the board a few years back, Spencer had found something worthwhile that he believed held the key to putting the Tyrant manufacture back on track in the research data provided on both projects and decided that a new approach was needed to figure out the solution to the large standstill their research had come to, so he ordered for Christina Henri and Ronald McVarian to instigate a joint venture between the researchers in Umbrella's European and American Divisions to begin the manufacturing of a new compound that had been discovered to resolve one of the issues surrounding the Tyrant series, namely the inability to preserve enough intelligence in a Tyrant for it to be capable to follow orders issued by the higher-ups of the corporation or the White Queen's Bio-Weapons Protocol Control System.

It turns out that both divisions were able to create a hormonal-chemical formula that comprised of the BHN hormone that Birkin had discovered in the brains of Tyrant hosts and those with the so-called 'immunity' to the T-Virus, and a chemical that was secreted by the NE-Alpha parasites into the brains of their hosts in order to protect their brain cell structure from the necrotic effects of the T-Virus during its implantation directly into its spinal cord, and according to the preliminary tests they performed on its reaction to T-Infected mitochondria in dead cells, it appeared to be able to provide enough energy for the T-Virus to run the entire without having to bypass other internal systems or sacrificing additional cells to provide sources of energy, hence the necrotic effects that were evident in the zombies

Upon receiving this information, Spencer appeared satisfied with the results of the preliminary examinations and issued a new directive for the two divisions to focus on producing large quantities of the formula to be used in Umbrella's Tyrant Program to determine if it could truly solve the matter of preserving the BOWs intelligence to a suitable level. They were successful in mass-producing this new compound, with the regular supplies of both the hormone from the T-002 Tyrant stored in Arklay and the Hunter-Nemesis specimen currently under observation at the 6th European Labs, and had immediately began experimentation with this compound on potential Tyrant hosts by implanting them with the hormone directly into their cerebral cortex after they were infected with the T-Virus and placed into cryo-stasis for development in order to control the rate of the mutations brought on by the infection.

The resulting BOWs became the vanguard of the T-103 series; a new superior breed of Tyrants that possessed both the traditional traits found in the original Tyrant BOWs and an higher level of intelligence that allowed them to follow more complex orders presented from the corporation. Needless to say, Spencer and the board were ecstatic about this success since it finally helped to bring their research progress further after years of stagnation, providing a rejuvenated sense of determination that pushed the corporation forward to continue the Tyrant Project with producing more of the hormonal-solution and to locate more suitable hosts for the project.

At first, Wesker held very little optimism towards the prospect of finding suitable Tyrant hosts because, as he had performed his own investigation into the Tyrant Project and how many people matched the genetic criteria required to produce the BHN hormone in order to be turned into Tyrants, he knew that, even with this new solution to preserve a Tyrant's intelligence from the necrotic effects of the virus, there was very little chance that the corporation would be able to find enough hosts to use in mass-producing the T-103s since only 50 such people existed alone in the USA. However, due to Umbrella's position and ties to the scientific community in regards to their public image as a pharmaceutical corporation, a method had been provided for them to use to overcome the dilemma of a lack of suitable specimens for the Tyrant Project, which was the method of DNA cloning established through the Human Genome Project, thus allowing the scientists associated to the development of the Tyrants to copy the specific parts of a Tyrant host's DNA that allowed them to produce the BHN hormone and implant them into any person they wanted to create more of the hormone in the host internally, effectively boosting the mass-production to higher numbers.

Furthermore, with the mass-production of the T-103 Tyrant series underway and already making incredible results, the European Division's Nemesis Project also gained a substantial benefit as well from this stage of their research. As had been noted before, the NE-Alpha parasites were highly unstable and incredibly fragile that they needed to form a perfect bond with the host's body and genetic structure to sustain itself whilst it protected and manipulated the host's intelligence to a suitable during the infection as the T-Virus reactivated the mutational properties inside the parasite and caused the parasite to grow larger, effectively continuing the host's mutations, which would result in death by massive cellular breakdown due to extreme mitosis should a bond between the host and parasite fail.

In conclusion, the NE-Alpha parasite needed a host that possessed a suitable body and genetic code that could maintain the parasite's original form as the T-Virus continued to mutate inside both organisms whilst the parasite protects the host's intelligence from the necrotic effects the virus has on brain cells. Naturally, the only host suitable enough to use in contrast with the NE-Alpha was a Tyrant BOW, but they lacked any efficient Tyrants at the time, so the project was suspended momentarily until they were able to resolve the Tyrant Program; however, once the problems had been taken care of and the corporation had already produced several T-103 Tyrants for use, the 6th European research team requested a T-103 for their Nemesis Project to test their theory if the NE-Alpha parasite could successfully bond with the Tyrant as a potential host, which ended up creating the Nemesis Mark I, a T-103 BOW combined with the NE-Alpha parasite in a symbiotic relationship, retaining the original traits of the Tyrant class in addition to the unique abilities of the parasite via its many tentacles that jutted from its body to be used as either a transmitter to spread its T-Viral strain or as lance to impale foes, and a level of intelligence that surpassed that of its Tyrant bretheren.

Although, the credibility of the Nemesis Project was still under consideration from the board on whether or not they could commence mass-production of the Nemesis models in regards to the incident that occurred four years ago when the Nemesis Mark I had been able to retain the capacity of independent thought and individual emotions, thus forcing it to break free of its confinement and had escapee into the wildlife outside the facility, resulting in the deaths of one security guard at the lab, four teams of USF troops deployed to destroy it and the lead scientist on the project whom attempted to follow on par with some obsessive and delusional fantasy; this was determined to be cause of the extreme potency of the formula used in the Tyrant program because, although it managed to prevent any necrotic damage from taking place in the BOWs brain cells and preserve enough of its intelligence to enable it to understand orders, it also kept enough of its brain unaffected that it was able to feel emotion and think for itself, thus it had managed to escape from its confinement and spread its infection through the local area. Luckily though, the outbreak was successfully contained before it could reach any nearby towns or cities and all evidence pertaining to Umbrella was destroyed in the decontamination operation afterwards.

Despite the amount of the setbacks that their research, the new flaws that had been found in their latest developments or the number of BOWs that had failed to achieve Spencer's strict standards in his unrelenting persistence on their work, the corporation was finally moving forward again and making sufficient progress to manufacturing their BOWs. The European Division were now more focused on providing a new method to prevent the incident with the Nemesis Mark I by selecting a different approach to exerting Umbrella's control and influence over the BOW, in turn to suppressing its emotions and self-awareness whilst causing no changes to the unstable NE-Alpha parasites or the protection provided to the host's brain cell structure and intelligence level from the necrotic effects of the infection. In the meantime, all new research and information pertaining to the recent new theories, ideas and BOW development were transferred to all of Umbrella's top facilities for evaluation, further examination and/or mass-production, mainly in Umbrella's Asian Division. As for the Tyrant Project, upon Spencer's command, all efforts made into the development of the third-class series were handed over to the newly-constructed facilities stationed at the private corporate Equatorial plant on Sheena Island in the Atlantic Ocean, thus the Arklay Laboratories had become overshadowed and drifted away into something of a minor role in their research, leaving their research teams to work on only making new discoveries into the T-Virus or providing a steady supply of the BHN hormone to the Sheena facilities for the T-103 production line.

Hence the reason behind Spencer's lack of visits and very little interest towards the laboratories built under his estate in Raccoon Forest, what with all major research having been transferred and redirected to the more highly-advanced facilities across the globe, leaving the Arklay R&D facilities obsolete, although Wesker suspected Spencer had an ulterior motive behind his rare visits to his former home in the lush environment in the Mid-Western suburban town, as he always did in regards to Umbrella's biological weaponry.

_It seems that quite a fair amount of progress has been made in our research that we are finally achieving some worthwhile results. I suppose it was inevitable that my transfer had to come since most of the new ventures in our work exceed my level of expertise, especially the G-Virus._

When Birkin had put forward his proposal to focus his efforts on studying the new G-Virus strain and Spencer had approved it, Wesker decided to implement the plans he had been planning for the past decade and sent a request to the board for a transfer to another area of work, his eyes set on the Intelligence Service that Umbrella must have established under its power in order to observe all areas of its operations and regulate the amount of orders that passed down the corporate hierarchy. This had come as a big surprise to Birkin since he had hoped that, as they had been partners since their first meeting at the Training Facility under Marcus' tutelage and worked alongside each other throughout their assignments to the research on both the Progenitor and T-Virus strains, Wesker would have joined Birkin is his new shift of priorities towards examining and studying the G-Virus, believing that Wesker's own knowledge would come as a big support to his work.

However, Wesker rebuffed the proposal, explaining that he had grown weary of his time as a researcher and applied for an opening in Umbrella's intelligence network, filling out an application form and wading through the red-tape bureaucratic politics to get there, coping with the irritating process as best he could. Most of the board members and employees in Umbrella's vast administration understood Wesker's motives behind his desire to move position as they saw it as something of a natural change of career, since the research department was a rather trying part of Umbrella's foundations in regards to the amount of pressure applied by both work and the board, and most people wished to transfer out to another department in order to find another way to make themselves of use to the corporation.

And, although Wesker had been planning for a while to change positions in order to uncover what motives, aspirations and reasons were behind Spencer's irrational actions, strict standards and undulating persistence for perfection, he had always known that the true reason behind his need for a change of pace was because he had noticed that, with all the research and development already under great progress, he was reaching his limits as a research and needed to find a new way to keep himself in Umbrella's throes. The G-Virus was the catalyst to this and had helped him to realize that his limitations were at their peak, thus he was now with Monitor.

_I have to ensure that I show Umbrella I am still of use and keep myself from becoming a liability. If I am to find out what Spencer is up to, then I have to stay within his favor and keep up appearances._

The elevator soon came to a stop at the bottom of the shaft with a soft thud and a loud clank of metal at the emergency evacuation hall to the heliport on Level B1. Wesker stepped off his place at the wall, straightening his sunglasses and slid open the gates, holding them open for Birkin as he stepped through, still engrossed in what he was reading, and followed after him as he let the gates slide shut behind him, both of them walking at a brisk pace towards the main lab area where they were to meet with the new Arklay Head Researcher and receive their following information on the situation Spencer had called them there for, ignoring the sharp salutes from the guards and polite nods from the technicians as they passed them.

"How have Annette and Sherry been?" Wesker inclined politely, breaking the silence between them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Birkin's face light with a mixture of pride and affection, a small smile crawling across his face as he still looked at his work. "They're both very well. Annette and I are currently working on the G-Virus to study its effects and whether or not we can control its amazing mutational properties to see if we can utilize its regenerative functions, but it will take time for us to find the answer to that since the mutations caused by the virus are extremely volatile. As for Sherry...she has just started going to school and is excelling above everyone else in regards to her work and grades. She can apply herself so easily to her tasks and achieve much in so little time. I have to say that I am proud of her and her hard work," he said affectionately.

Wesker glanced over at Birkin discreetly, the slight movement of his eyebrows the only hint of the emotion playing across his face. "She is a lot like her parents," he commented.

Birkin laughed. "Maybe so, but she is nothing like me or Annette. After all, she only wants to have a normal life with me and Annette there to watch out for her. I suppose all children are like that in some way," he muttered under his breath, his voice so low Wesker almost didn't hear him. His face then grew stern. "Which is why I want to get this done immediately so I can get back to my work on the G-Virus; there is still much to be done in the experiments we are currently undertaking and I need to get back there to finish them up for the day, since I promised Annette we'd pick up Sherry after school."

Wesker simply nodded politely. Over the many years he had known him, Birkin was always the type to engross himself in his work to the near-enough point that bordered along the line of obsessional behavior and always showed nothing but contempt to anyone he believed was beneath his genius, isolating himself from the rest of the staff and ignoring everything around him to continue his work, and that had been the case during their time working together from the days at the Training Facility until the beginning of the G-Virus Project four years ago. However, now he was married and raising a child through school whilst still continuing his work with the vast pharmaceutical conglomerate, effectively balancing his hectic lifestyle between the two things that mattered to him the most in his life; most of the staff, even Wesker and Spencer including, had found the thought of Birkin settling down with a family quite unlikely and would have probably dismissed the idea as mere speculation or gossiping, but they were actually just as surprised that he was indeed betrothed to Miss Jenkins, though Wesker soon grew to the decision that such a development was to occur naturally since he had noticed the signs of mutual attraction between them when Annette was assigned as Birkin's new assistant on the T-Virus research.

But Wesker considered it none of his business and hardly paid attention to whatever Birkin was up to most of the time, heeding more to other matters that acquired his attention rather than the family life of the Birkin household.

"What about your work on the G-Virus? Made any new developments?" he inquired after a moment's pause.

At the mention of the G-Virus, Birkin looked up from what he was reading to Wesker, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

Wesker shrugged his shoulders. "Call it scientific interest on my part."

Birkin stared at Wesker with a scrutinizing gaze for a few seconds, trying to discern if there was another reason behind his question on the G-Virus and his elusively vague answer, but he instead brought his head back down to the folder in his hands, reading through it once again. "As I have told you already, Annette and I are trying to determine if we can locate a method to control the G-Virus' rather violent mutational properties to utilize its incredible revitalization rate. We intend to start testing the virus on a variety of hosts once all of the preliminary examinations are finished and we have made some small-scale experiments on single cell tissue samples, in addition to the experimental tests we have performed on any supplied specimens we had, namely insects, small rodents and mammals, but the biggest problem is going to be controlling the debilitating effects the virus has on its hosts over the course of regeneration and mutation. Needless to say, it will take a considerable amount of time and effort to make even a slight breakthrough in the research," he explained, his voice adopting the cool and emotionless tone of the scientist he truly was.

"What about Spencer? What's his opinion on the matter?"

Birkin scoffed under his breath, a glint of anger flashing in his eyes. "He is still pestering us to provide him with some worthwhile results on the G-Virus, claiming that he needs to understand what we are working on and that the board has to evaluate G's suitability as a marketable biological weapon in today's current situation. He still thinks we can pull answers out of thin air and magically complete the project in a few days for him to use in his petty war-and-money games; honestly, if he wasn't the one keeping Umbrella's businesses upright and supplying us with all the equipment, technology, facilities and funding that we needed for us to continue our research, I'd swear that he is becoming nothing more than a burden and a goddamn irritation to us all here," he stated harshly, his fingers tightening on the paper and crunching it out of place, threatening to rip it apart.

Wesker had to agree with Birkin's assumptions towards the CEO and remaining founder of Umbrella Inc. Oswell E. Spencer, despite being the sole source of income for their research and the highest-ranking individual on the corporate hierarchy, was becoming more and more of a problem for the scientists and researchers beneath to cope with, as his impossibly strict standards, his irrational actions towards their progress, his persistently rigid aims for what he desired out of their endeavors and his constant badgering for quick results to use was growing into more and more of a hindrance for every project, program or theory being put under development in their BOW production.

On the subject, Wesker, in all honesty, never expected for Spencer to approve the G-Virus project for development because, with nearly enough every major facility that Umbrella owned across the globe working on a different aspect of the T-Virus research and the amount of necessities to continue any one of these directives, Umbrella's resources had to be nearly enough pushed to their full limitations, and with Spencer's attitude and demeanor towards their current progress, he doubted they could keep anything functioning at all in any of the corporation's assets any longer.

Wesker had known for a long time that the work they were performing for Umbrella's goals was, without a doubt, massively expensive and cost a lot of funds to keep it running even remotely. With the type of scientific research and development they were performing, it was a matter of basic fact that they required the most advanced technology needed to conduct their experiments, a suitable facility constructed that could hold all of the specimens, technology and staffing assigned to the research, highly-competent staff to run all of the projects that flowed in and out of the facility, if they wished to make any progress at all in finalizing the T-Virus and to produce any pharmaceutical substances that could be sold to the public for a hefty sum. Additionally, due to the horrific nature of their research, it was necessary to take the proper precautions to conceal it from the global public, thus it was fundamental that the local governments, law enforcement agencies, the UN, the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium, the super-powers in the world and the entire political stage were to be given substantial 'donations' to ensure a continued working relationship between each other, which was Umbrella's unquestionable support to all new ventures with its influence and wealth whilst they provided safety and obscurity from the rest of the world to conduct their research. Finally, due to the obvious dangers and devastating consequences that would transpire if the virus managed to escape, it was essentially a top priority to take the necessary precautions to ensure that, not only did the infection spread farther than the initial surrounding area, all evidence of their involvement in the outbreak, hence the preparation of the elite special forces and divisions established to wipe away any dangerous evidence or witnesses to their research whilst the SDS system was installed to act as a final fail-safe measure to wipe away both the infection and evidence of Umbrella's activities.

Obviously, to fund all of these endeavors and keep all of them running at a suitable level of efficiency, thousands and thousands of sums of money was flaunted to provide financial aid to support these procedures, and if they were to keep running smoothly, Umbrella needed to earn the same amount of money they were spending. Naturally, the simplest solution to everyone would be to sell their BOWs and viral strains on the black market for a reasonable sum because, with the large amount of BOWs they had successfully created over the past decades or so and despite the minor flaws or discrepancies that had been found in them, the prices their BOWs would fetch had to be at a rather large value if sold to the right clientèle, such as terrorist organizations, unstable governments, guerrilla forces and private military contractors. But Spencer fiercely refused these suggestions and demanded that all of their BOWs be made to match that of his strict standards, and that the T-Virus be perfected to fully wipe out an entire population without difficulty, which he continued to fund out of Umbrella's pockets, leaving the issue of raising the necessary finances to their public pharmaceutical trading.

In short, Umbrella was spending far more money on their research and earning very little of it back to make ends meet, effectively draining their resources dangerously low and pushing them to the absolute extremes that there was the distinct risk their company would go bankrupt sooner or later. And with all of the current research ventures and projects being undertaken already across the globe in every facility owned by Umbrella, adding more projects for development and study into mass-production for BOW research, especially something on such a large scale as the G-Virus, was both a sign of absolute ignorance and sheer stubborn stupidity since it would only stretch their resources further beyond any capable extension and further bring down their progress due to lack of financial support.

More to the point, after examining all of Birkin's recent reports on the G-Virus and the results of the preliminary tests he'd had a chance to perform with what Umbrella had supplied to him, Wesker thought that the G-Virus itself deviated too far from the official criteria to be classified as a 'weapon' in military terms due to the unknown factors it contained and the astoundingly debilitating phenomena that it demonstrated during the examinations when applied to single cell samples only, shrouding it further in mystery and speculation, separating it entirely from the original Progenitor and the Tyrant-Virus strains before it.

Of course, the most obvious difference between G and the other strains was its overall method of infection when applied to a host specimen. Unlike its predecessor, the Tyrant-Virus, which infected its hosts by inserting its RNA into a cell once it came into contact with it's membrane, taking over the cell's functions and producing offspring to infect other cells, then it killed off the mitochondria inside the infected cells and creating T-Mitochondria to supply enough energy to power the lower brain functions and motor neurones whilst bypassing the entire circulatory system, effectively killing the host, and reanimating the host to consume living tissue in order to provide further supplies of energy to support the infection as it caused necrosis in the host by consuming cells in order to gain more energy and to divide via mitosis to spread through the host's body, the Gene-Virus had an all-new means of infecting its host.

It infected its host by diffusing into the cells upon contact with their membranes and immediately spread into the nucleus, merging with its DNA sequences and began altering the base components of the sequences, which it would then cause mutations within its genetic coding by accelerating cellular duplication, thus greatly increasing the host's metabolism. These duplicated cells would actively seek out and attach to uninfected cells nearby, inserting the G-Virus' RNA sequence into the cell through the membrane. Upon arrival, the G-RNA infects the cell nucleus and merges with its DNA code, whereupon it caused volatile mutations into the cell and duplicated it through rapid mitosis; if the infection came across any dead cells, the G-Cells would insert their RNA sequence into the nucleus, consume the damaged DNA strands contained inside and secrete an enzyme into the missing segments to produce proteins which reconstructed the missing links to complete the chain. However, this process comes at the cost of all the host's higher brain functions due to the continual destruction of mitochondria in infected neurons by the infection in an attempt to cultivate further supplies of energy required to utilize both the strains mutational and regenerative properties as it spread through the host, which would undoubtedly cause the host to degrade to sub-human levels, destroying the host's capabilities of moral reasoning and memory, leaving it to become driven by self-preservation on par with the animalistic behavior it had adapted to from the brain damage.

Another key point that differed between the T-Virus and the G-Virus is that, unlike both the Progenitor and the T-Virus, Gene didn't kill its host, keeping the host alive during the process of infection by merging with the host's DNA and causing massive genetic changes to its structure, constantly keeping all of the cells running fully by consuming all traces of the mitochondria in the neurons, which supplied it with sufficient energy to run all of the bodily systems within the host comfortably. Additionally, G didn't show any hint or evidence of T's traditional necrotic properties, due to the rapid revitalization abilities that it possessed, meaning that any host infected with the G-Virus didn't decompose as the virus didn't cause cellular break down in the host from mitosis since it focused more on cellular duplication that it could use to replace damaged parts of the host that its revitalization effects couldn't repair.

This in turn led to the main differential factor that separated both the Gene and Tyrant strains. Unlike the T-Virus, which simply went inert and dormant within the host after the initial stages of infection, causing little mutation or changes within the host, the G-Virus would spontaneously continue to mutate the host at an alarming rate as the host reacted to the virus's presence repetitively.

It was common scientific knowledge that all viruses, no matter what specific type they may be or how their genetic code is designed in their physical structure, were always prone to mutational changes due to the lack of protection their DNA had to any external stimuli or self-evolution and reproduction, and with each new mutation came new effects and determination towards how the virus would act during it stages of infection, hence the great demand for high-class medicine, properly-trained and certifiable medical professionals, and the need for up to date pharmaceutical products to cope with these new changes to all known bacteria, viruses and fungi.

It was a never-ending battle between medicine and infection, and like all fighters in war and the people leading them, they needed to be able to adapt to the different tactics, environments and turning-points that always transpired in battle in order to cope with the long-term effects. And with each new battlefield, new ventures were made to gain an edge over the other side.

Even if a virus infects a living animal or person, the virus can still mutate inside the host and cause some visible changes whilst it inhabited the host, and there were several notable diseases that could attack a host's DNA and undergo mutational changes. But the point of the matter was that these mutations were all secluded to the virus' own DNA structures, not that of the host; no matter how the virus was transmitted from one host to another or how the infection was spread throughout the host, it was rare for even the simplest of cellular material, let alone the DNA genetic make-up, to actually be mutated to any extent. Despite any alterations made to the DNA sequences, the microscopic physical anatomy of a host neither mutated nor changed by the infection.

However, should an external stimuli be applied to the initial stages of infection, such as high levels of radioactivity, then the matter changes entirely; cancer was one prime example because any type of radiation can cause abnormalities to appear in the genetic material of an organism, preventing any methods to stop the cancer from functioning properly and affect the two general classes of genes that promote the spread of cancerous tumors, which are the cancer-promoting oncogenes and tumor suppressor genes, progressing the disease even further.

But, the G-Virus was entirely different from all other forms of infections and oblivious to these rules since any host infected by the Gene-strain will continue to invoke violent mutations on the organism's DNA structure until the host itself dies, even if no external stimuli is either present or applied to the host.

Even the Tyrant-Virus, despite the large factors that differentiated it between itself and the Gene-Virus, possessed some qualities that were similar to those found in the G-Virus. In every BOW they had developed and manufactured over the decades of research with Umbrella's secret field of scientific endeavors, it had been observed that all of the latest BOWs, including the third class models, the so-called 'living biological weapons' had all shown changes in their genetic coding and DNA sequences brought on by mutations caused from the T-Virus infection, the results confirming the obvious.

But, in all of these projects, there had always been a source of external stimuli that helped to create the BOWs they had made. In order to develop the BOWs, the team of researchers assigned to the project had to use a form of outside influential factors to promote the necessary mutations that created the BOWs; all of them had been created by using external stimuli as a catalyst in combination with the T-Virus to finalize the desired creature at the project's conclusion.

The Hunters, the Chimeras, the Tyrants and all of the other BOWs; all of them had been produced by utilizing a source of external stimuli to influence the outcome of the experiment, either by manipulating their DNA, placing them in a pre-designed environment or introducing another organism into to the host to control the initial stages of the T-Virus infection. In other words, without the external stimuli, hardly any changes to the host's DNA could be found in the resulting BOW because, even though the T-Virus caused mutations in any host it came across and changed them to form a terrifying creature in itself, the host's DNA was left unaffected and so they were essentially the same species of animals they started as before the experiments. If an animal or human is infected by the T-Virus in a secondary case scenario, they would still be either a human or animal, despite the mutations caused by the infection; their DNA, remaining unaffected by the T-Virus infection as the mutational effects are carried out in the host, would still call them what species they were and so that was what they were.

And, naturally, using controlled external stimuli as a catalyst towards creating a BOW meant that anyone could mildly predict what the mutational properties of the T-Virus could cause in a host and what the resulting BOW would be like upon completion, since they would apply the factors and promote the changes in the host to influence the experiment towards their aspired results.

Such was the laws of viral and genetic research.

However, these 'laws' neither complied nor dictated the progression of the G-Virus because, due to its extremely volatile and rapid mutational properties combined with its exceptionally manic regenerative abilities, no one could predict how the host organism would mutate during the infection stages or determine a pattern from the changes made into the host, and there was no way to control the rate of mutations since the virus would simply improvise and change itself to adapt to the external stimuli, making the method practically useless.

Seven years ago, Birkin had, unknowingly or not, discovered evidence of these effects inside 'Her' when they had decided to go through with implanting the NE-Alpha parasite into her to uncover a method of resolving the issues around the Tyrant Program and the G-Virus had been discovered. At first glance, Lisa's appearance had changed very little over the course of the many decades she had been caged away as Umbrella's little plaything for the various viral strains under experimentation, or at least that much appearance one could see through the grim display of facial masks and rotting skin that obscured her features. But deep within her, something was constantly changing over the long waves of time she was sealed away in Arklay, mutating and transforming her DNA in so many various ways that she couldn't possibly be classified as a human, consuming every type of virus that they had pumped into over the course of their research and it continued to thrive in her, which she had grown to co-exist with it during her imprisonment, enforcing a kind of artificial-evolution on her body.

Thus, after nearly thirty years of suffering and torment, being constantly injected with so much deadly toxins that she was technically meant to be dead a long time ago, enduring the massive amount of mutational changes enforced on her DNA and becoming something...less than human, when the Nemesis parasite had been implanted into her, it simply became another mutation in her body, consumed by the combination of all those infections and molded into another fragment of the whole.

Birkin's intention in his research on the G-Virus was to push the infection to the highest point of mutation possible and force these characteristics in the viral strain to the absolute ultimate limit.

The question that inevitably rose up from the amount of speculation, theories, ideas and assumptions churned over in the mass of science, research and tests over the new Gene-Virus was what would be produced as a result of this project.

Would they achieve something that resembled the evolutionary prospect of the 'final' form of mankind?

Or would they simply mutilate the host to a finale where it died from the extreme debilitation and mutational transformations it was forced to endure, ending the project in complete disaster?

Could such a thing really be called a 'weapon'?

_What was Spencer thinking? Why would he authorize such a project? What could he possibly hope to accomplish out all of this?_

The more he thought about all of their research, the massive amount of funds being spent on it, the progress that had been made during his career with Umbrella, the multiple varieties and differential specimens that spawned the BOWs they had stored away to be mass-produced, and Spencer's seemingly-ignorant actions to continue the research with full-effort to achieve the optimum results possible despite the obvious problems that had been unveiled before them over the course of these past decades, Wesker grew more and more perplexed as to what the remaining founder and current CEO of the vast pharmaceutical conglomerate was aiming to get out of this menagerie of scientific exploration, cloak-and-dagger conspiracies and horrifically dangerous experimentations.

Whatever it was that Spencer was after from all of the research being conducted here, it certainly wasn't out large financial gains by marketing the BOWs as weapons of war to all war zones and organizations willing to purchase something that could provide an advantage for them since nearly all of his orders, actions and ideas certainly pointed away from the idea that he was in it for money.

Shortly after Wesker and Birkin had been appointed to the positions of Head Researchers at the Arklay Laboratory upon the resolution of that incident concerning their mentor James Marcus to commence their studies into the Tyrant-Virus strain that he had developed, their research studies into the effects of the T-Virus on humans had turned up an interesting factor concerning the virus' infection capabilities. Initially, Wesker paid very little concern or attention over the fact that 10% of a population possessed an 'immunity' to the T-Virus since he knew that a virus with a potential to wipe out 90% of a population would fetch a rather large price on the black market if they were to sell it, but Spencer thought otherwise and demanded that Wesker was to focus all his efforts onto enhancing the T-Virus' abilities that it would be able to kill an entire population unconditionally.

This had been the start that had planed the seeds into Wesker's growing suspicions on what was motivating the Umbrella CEO to continue his research. Spencer was by far not an idiot and, in his position as the supreme ruler of the corporation and his experience as a successful businessman, he must have realized that what they were working in secrecy behind the company's bright public statements and investments was extremely expensive in regards to all of the procedures, equipment, staffing and security that was required to keep the operations running smoothly, so why would he blatantly ignore the costs that continued to mount on Umbrella's budget to achieve something that was impossible?

At the time, Wesker couldn't look into Spencer's motives behind his actions towards their research since he had to focus all of his efforts onto the CEO's orders to improve the T-Virus' kill-rate and locating a new method to wipe out an entire population without altering the virus itself, and he knew that should he try investigating the man, it would only cast suspicion upon himself and catch Spencer's attention, which he knew would have dire consequences if his activities were to be discovered, James Marcus being a grim reminder of that outcome, so all thoughts and due consideration on Lord Spencer's motivations took a place on the side-lines to more productive research.

However, his suspicions towards Oswell E. Spencer continued to grow the more his mind reflected upon the progress that had been made towards the T-Virus research and the revelations it brought to his attention, compounding his thoughts with confusion and dread to what was unravelling before him like a dark tapestry. It was well known that the T-Virus was capable of infecting any species that it came into contact with and, due to its virulency and adaptability, it could spread in many variety of ways utilizing the natural abilities of its hosts if it ever managed to escape from the laboratories where Umbrella kept it contained. In concordance with the dangers this would bring both to the corporation and the public in general should such an event occur, it was necessary that Umbrella's money was to be spent towards developing suitable security measures to ensure that the virus wouldn't either escape from confinement or spread very far should it manage to escape; obviously, one of the main precautions that the corporation had to take was to build the facilities in areas that presented very little vectors for the virus to use in spreading across the environment, such as the Antarctic Transport Facility that Alexander Ashford built when he took over from his father, since the vast desolate area provided very little methods for the infection to spread.

However, Wesker had noticed that the Arklay Facility was in contradiction towards these safety measures because it had been built underneath a large mansion in the middle of an enormous forest near to a sprawling suburban city, which held far too many potential vectors that the T-Virus could use to spread if it escaped. It seemed that the reason Spencer had the labs constructed in this specific area was to enable the virus to spread through the environment effortlessly upon its escape.

To consider such a thought was utter lunacy and insane in all proportions, but no matter how hard he wanted to deny it, Wesker couldn't shake the assertion that was partly what Spencer was striving for, so he decided that he had to move to another position in Umbrella's infrastructure to find out what Spencer was really after. Although, he knew that he would have to be patient before making his transfer if he was to avoid suspicion towards what he was up to; he had already caught Spencer's eye when some evidence of his own investigations had been discovered and Spencer himself had started asking Wesker for answers to why he was looking into classified information withheld by the board, and he had most likely found out about how he had learned of the Nemesis Project.

Now though, with all of the new BOWs under mass-production already and Birkin having diverted his efforts towards the unpredictable G-Virus strain, needless to say, Wesker was becoming more and more perplexed by Spencer's actions towards their research, his motives still unclear and yet to be discovered; even after four years of being with the Monitor Intelligence Service and having access to nearly enough every pieces of data that had been gathered by the vast pharmaceutical conglomerate ever since its establishment, Wesker had still found no leads or information pertaining to some grand scheme that Spencer had planned for all of this, no final goal or great achievement that he was aiming to complete by utilizing all of these creations Umbrella's researchers and scientific staff had produced.

And now, Spencer had begun to effectively isolate himself from Umbrella's inner-machinations, melding away into the dark shadows of the vast conspiracy that he had nurtured inside the corporation, leaving himself to pull the strings from his new-found lair like a dark puppeteer would control his toys for his own personal enjoyment. As he did with the Arklay Laboratories, he rarely ever ventured out of where he secretly operated from and hardly paid any visits to any of the facilities Umbrella's influential power controlled, preferring to remain in contact only when he chose to and enough to keep himself updated with everything that was happening with the BOW research, almost as if whatever he was waiting for seemed to be drawing closer to its appearance and he was eagerly anticipating its fruition.

Like a mirage floating amongst the vast acres of blistering heat and never-ending sand, Spencer grew farther and farther away from Wesker, evaporating into the horizon, along with any chances of finding out the truth. But Wesker knew he only had to be patient, that he just had to wait for another chance to appear before him since there was always the possibility that such a chance would present itself inevitably and he would then finally bring this game of hide-and-seek to its conclusion.

_Assuming, that is, I manage to stay alive long enough for such a chance to become apparent to me. Until then, I shall have to remain ever watchful for a new venture to appear, be it with Umbrella or not._

At the exact moment in time now, Wesker was forced to continue following his orders from Spencer and the board to the letter, carrying them out without hesitation or hints of rebellion to appease Spencer's attitude towards him, whilst he secretly conducted his investigations into the Umbrella CEO from behind the scenes, using what little information he could access from the computer network in his spare time.

And there was another mystery to add to the growing pile of perplexity and peculiarities that Wesker had seen over the years in his career with Umbrella. As was required by everyone who was employed under Umbrella's and Spencer's vast empire to work on the secret BOW research being conducted behind the corporation's bright public image no matter what position they held, Wesker had been obligated to use the computer network system that had been installed in every facility owned by the pharmaceutical enterprise and access any number of its systems to use in his duties on the T-Virus research should any of them be needed to accomplish a task, which were usually to send off all results made in any experiments performed at the Arklay Laboratories along with all the data pertaining to the project away to the board for evaluation via encrypted data upon the communication programs uploaded in the network in co-operation with Spencer's established protocols, to access the corporate archives in order to keep himself up to date on any new updates, to examine any new endeavors that caught his interest or progress made in their research, and to conduct his own investigations into what Spencer had planned for their research, but he had never once asked who designed it, how it had been created to link with all of Umbrella's assets across the globe and who was in charge of keeping the whole thing running and maintaining the incredible amount of data, programs and internal traffic that swam through it in swarms of encrypted data on a daily basis. Although, with a system that managed every single scrap of information Umbrella's reams of operations had collected, he imagined that the board would have been rather reluctant to disclose any knowledge on such an important system to someone holding the position of Head Researcher.

Besides, at the time, Wesker was more concerned with the great weight of burdens that had fallen upon his shoulders in regards to the T-Virus research, Spencer's orders, his private investigations into matters that struck an interest towards his constantly-working mind and the conflicting emotions that rose up with every new revelation on the corporation, and satisfying the board that they wouldn't send a USF team after him to 'retire' him, so all thoughts about Umbrella's administration, mechanical processes and data network had taken a back-burner to the more higher priorities on his list. Consecutively, with his transfer out of R&D and his lack of suitable leads in his private investigations, he began to ponder on the possibility that there might be a connection between Spencer and the unknown dominating factor behind Umbrella's vast systems of control.

He had originally believed that Spencer had hired either a single person or a small group of people, all of them with high levels on intellectual capacities, extensive knowledge in IT systems and exceptional understanding towards using computers, to monitor the internal network, regularly manage the variety of programs installed on it and direct all data traffic to wherever it needed to go, but after careful consideration and logical thinking, Wesker deduced that such a thing was a complete impossibility in itself. With nearly enough hundreds of facilities built in every corner of the world, on of them on differing scales of efficiency, priority and productivity, and given different commands to fulfill from the Executive Board, undergoing dozens of projects and theories towards the T-Virus research, uploading massive strands of data through the network in multiple locations at any given time, no human could possibly have the energy, skills or mental capacity to handle that much data, examine it all in the frame of nano-seconds and then send it off to its desired destination to be received from the person pending its request.

Spencer, even with his immense power, strict persistence and sheer stubborn will, certainly couldn't manage such an enormous and incessant workload, and Wesker highly doubted that neither he nor Birkin, or anyone else, could handle such a daunting task, which implied that there was something else currently running the whole network of encrypted algorithms and programmed routines, some kind of massive data processing system that ran the whole thing through itself and controlled all of the company's assets via intensive scrutiny and amazing speed according to the rigorous standards Spencer had laid down on Umbrella. After all, something was indefinitely behind the functionalities and technological support infastructure of the system since there was always that female voice echoing every time one person would access any designated program in the system to make announcements based upon their choices or on any input that person made towards the system, coldly making precise statements in that bland mechanical tone depending upon the results of the program's progression on a particular task.

And, in theory, if he was to find whatever was running this system and access the immense quantities of information it had stored away in the maze of its database, he might be able to uncover the long-hidden clues he needed to finally figure out what Spencer's true motives were. However, he had been unsuccessful in locating any information or proof that such a thing actually existed and, even with his renewed level of clearance granted to him on par with his transfer to the Monitor Information Division, he was still forced to tread carefully on the invisible layer of thin ice that lay beneath his footsteps, filled with bottomless holes that would plunge him deep into the chasms of Hell should he make a mistake and bring down the wrath of Umbrella's tyrannical ruler upon him, sending into the waves of darkness to join with Marcus in the abyss they had damned him to.

_I must not act reckless with my investigations if I am to uncover the truth behind Spencer's actions. I shall have to remain cautious of the next few parts of my career before I make my moves, especially with Colonel Vladimir hanging over my back._

The corners of Wesker's mouth twitched as he felt a subtle emotional blend of contempt and anger well up inside him at the thought of Umbrella's Monitor Unit Commander-in-Chief, remembering the aged former-Soviet officer watching him silently wherever he went, constantly asking him questions about his recent actions or usage of the corporation's assets in line with his work whilst hacking away at himself with that coveted blade of his.

As a member of Umbrella's Monitor Division, Wesker was to follow under the command of Sergei Vladimir, one of Spencer's most loyal and fanatical officers, a former member of the Soviet Red Army during WWII and a decorated war-hero due to his extended service through the hard days of the battles on the Eastern Front, quickly earning him the rank of Colonel for his achievements and the title he still used today with Umbrella's inner-machinations and politics; he was also one of the top members on the Executive Board, founder of the Monitor Division, Commander-in-Chief of Umbrella's private military forces, or colloquially put 'mercenary army', the Umbrella's Biohazard Countermeasure Service and the director of Umbrella's Asian Branch, operating out of a secret facility hidden in the Caucasus region of Russia or so the information on the colonel told him.

When Wesker's application for transfer had been sent to Spencer for inspection and evaluation, and it had been approved by the board, Wesker knew that he would have to tread cautiously if he wanted to make any new progress in his investigations into Umbrella's CEO by using his new position to access sensitive information that was as of yet out of his reach because he had already been caught snooping around once before by Spencer and had luckily gotten away with a slap on the wrists along with a stern warning of the potential consequences if he was caught again, so it was a mandatory condition that he was to still take precautions and ensure that he left no hints of his investigation out in the open again since, should he be found out, it would naturally end up becoming available to Spencer's knowledge as the Monitor Director answered only to Spencer himself and he would have no doubt been notified about Wesker's suspicious activities beforehand when his investigations had somehow been noticed by Spencer, thus having him kept under observation for a selected period to determine his true loyalties.

Had it been anyone else with the position, Wesker was confident that he could have managed to circumvent the security measures taken against him and continue his searching unimpeded without alerting Spencer to his actions since, despite his power and influential might over Umbrella's long list of assets and staff, Spencer didn't have total dominance over every person as some would be in this for personal gain and only remained focused on acquiring that which they desperately sought after, the petty competitions being held between Umbrella's individual divisions in hopes to gain the most of Spencer's favor and earn the right to inherit his immense throne of power from him when he passed on a prime example of such thoughts held in Umbrella's higher ranking employees, paying little heed to anything else that either didn't concern their long sought-after goals or wasn't of any use to them in achieving these goals.

Sergei, on the other hand, was no such person and he didn't harbor any goals to gain dominion and power over the corporation when Spencer passed on. He was rigid with his command over the UBCS and Monitor, pushing all of them forward to strive for excellence and total perfection in order to prepare them for whatever missions they may be forced to undertake, extremely thorough in his work as the Director of Monitor to root out any dissent or treachery lurking amongst the employees, highly-intelligent due to his impressive knowledge on science and Umbrella's research despite his total military life beforehand, unrelenting to accomplish anything he believed would be of great importance to the sanctity of Umbrella and incredibly ruthless towards anyone who failed in their duties to the corporation, punishing them with an almost brutal methodology.

This viciousness and brutality also applied, perhaps even more so, to those whom he felt were too much of a liability or a problem to Umbrella's rise in power, hence why he kept such intense watch over Wesker's actions for the duration that he was enlisted under his command, practically spying on him at every available second to determine if he truly was a traitor to Umbrella and demanding answers from him if he found something out of place in Wesker's reports, actions or interactions with other people, the suspicion and contempt clearly visible on his face as he slowly ran his fingers along his blade, glaring at him with his single eye, ignoring the small trickle of blood that ran down his fingers. It was obvious to everyone in the Monitor Division, although they tried not to give notice that they were aware of this or show any particular interest into the reasons why, that Sergei openly despised Wesker, making it plain for him to see how he regarded the man in regards to his own perception of where his loyalties lay, and Wesker made no point to hide the fact that those feelings were strongly mutual between them.

Despite the mild irritation this was causing him, Wesker expected for Spencer to have someone constantly monitor him like some guard dog obediently following the beckoning call of its master, even one as persistent and rigorous as Sergei, and was more than capable of handling whatever was thrown at him, taking extra care to keep everything he did up to scratch and towards Sergei's parameters, leaving little room doubt or hesitation in his activities, but the consequences of this were that his investigations had turned up nothing he could use as a new venture to experiment with, due to the intense scrutiny from Sergei and his own methods to remove suspicion from him, leaving them to decline gradually over the term of employment with Monitor until he had neglected to make further attempts to locate the information he wanted, uncovering nothing about Spencer or the computer network.

However, Wesker held a special kind of contempt towards the masochistic Russian Colonel, one that made him ignore all of his more-useful skills or beneficial traits to see what he was like underneath that facade of military bravado and ruthlessness. It had become blatantly obvious and transparently clear to Wesker that Sergei was definitely loyal to Umbrella and, more particularly, to Spencer in an incredibly, heeding his every word like it was a transcript from the Bible, following his every will around to await a chance for him to prove his loyalties to the corporation as a pet would its master in eager anticipation for a bone, and obeyed every single order that was handed him directly from the Umbrella CEO and remaining founder, no matter radical or grim they might be, always seeming to harbor a strange sense of ardor at the prospect of fulfilling another mission.

The reasons behind this was that, although Sergei was a well-decorated war-hero from the Second World War and a legendary figure amongst the Soviet Red Army, forging himself to the height of an inspiration to thousands of soldiers and an icon towards the military forces in the USSR, during the Cold War when the USA and USSR were still at faults with each other in their attempts to dominate over one another in any field they could possibly find, the world had become forced into a fragile peace between the two superpowers which had split it half and plummeted it into a state of perpetual paranoia over the prospect of a Third World War utilizing the nuclear armaments that the two nations owned. Of course, this fear had also reached the governments of the America and Russia, more specifically towards the aggression felt by most members of the military in regards to the other superpowers and conflicting social beliefs, and the possibility that the opposing armed forces would arbitarally launch an attack against each other in proclamation of superiority, thus the politicians, leaders and beaucrats all shared the same suggestion that something had to be done to quell the military's aggression to the opposing sides whilst showing to the military facing them that they were perfectly willing to sacrifice a few individuals of distinguished reputations if it would help maintain the continued peace, however fragile, between each other.

Sergei had been one of the individual officers to be discharged from the army because of his utmost respect to the Red Army, his obsessional fanaticism to the Motherland he called home and his grand desires to ensure that his country would dominate its foes completely, and with his career to the Red Army taken away from him, Sergei went in search of a new place to devote himself to.

That place lay with Oswell E. Spencer and the pharmaceutical corporation, Umbrella Incorporated.

Now, with a renewed sense of purpose and a place that he could call 'home', Sergei was hell-bent on doing whatever he deemed was necessary to protect it and ensure that Umbrella's rise to power was unhindered by any potential threats or dangers that might eventually destroy it, blindly following Spencer's will with little consideration towards himself and serving Umbrella's vast global influence with the same fanatical dedication he gave to the Red Army before it. And yet, despite his new position within Umbrella's hierarchy, his total command over the private military force he had personally trained and the insurmountable influence he possessed over his Motherland, he still refused to abandon the past to where he had left it behind, seeking to punish himself for his 'failure' by continually cutting himself with that double-bladed knife of his in some hopeless cause for redemption that was beyond his reach for something that was over long ago.

That was the curse of obsessional behavior. When one was so entirely focused on a single part of their lives to the utter brink of human will and personal emotions, determined to fulfill that simple desire that was just in their vision yet so far beyond their grasping frantic hands, they tended to lose track of everything around them, including their own health and safety, and strive to satisfy that obsession at ANY risk necessary. And Sergei was far down into his own fanaticism, bordering on the line between blind loyalty and ludicrous obsession, that he couldn't even see anything else happening around unless Spencer fed it to him like the bloodhound he had degraded himself to be.

_Such a worthless ideal. To focus so much on the past and prevent it from occurring again in the present is a futile effort in itself. If one never leaves the chains of the past behind and can only see the repercussions should it happen again, then their future is a bleak one indeed._

Obsessional behaviour had always been a particular form of emotion that Wesker held in the lowest regard for and no intention to explore should it appear before him in the near future, no matter where such behavior would apply to, since whether it be towards an object, a place, a figure or a belief, when a person becomes far too attached to something and fanatical over its existence, they tended to lose sight of their own sense of self-preservation, which grew to the desperate into upholding their obsessions at whatever cost, leading themselves mindlessly into trouble without due thought or consideration towards the consequences and inevitably killing themselves through sheer folly and ignorance. And Wesker had always followed his sense of self-preservation rigidly, thinking things through with a perceptive and open-minded view in order to keep himself away from harm and on top of things, to ensure that he had the best chances out of any given situation and what he was to expect from any consequences that might occur through any possible scenario he could come up with for any plausible situation involved with his current state of affairs.

Hence why, on occasions when he wasn't weighed down by his orders from the Executive Board and his superiors or by the doubts that resonated within his mind in regards to what Spencer was up to behind all of Umbrella's activities, he considered the possibility of actually leaving Umbrella's folds, to pack up everything that belonged to him, anything he could use to provide beneficial support for whatever came upon him later and seek out another, more promising venture to follow through upon his resignation. After all, Wesker had only chosen to become employed with Umbrella because, in the fields of bio-weaponry development and scientific research, which were all his specialty from his impressive qualifications that he had obtained at university, they were the most successful front of the many companies involved in this particular business trade and as they had been on the look-out for suitable candidates to enroll in their employment as a researcher, Wesker had opted to go with them since it was wise to find a career you could excel at and stick with it.

However, this was only on a temporary basis for him and he was more than ready to leave the corporation to find a new lease to undertake, due to the fact that, despite being the best at the production of bio-weaponry and genetic experimentation, they were not the only group or organization available to him, if he found a much offer available for to apply for at a different company or if the situation called for him to leave Umbrella should it get any worse for him.

_In the meantime, my duties lie with Umbrella and Spencer. And until that time, I shall play the humble servant to their whims, only for as long as they remain suitable to my aims._

That, in the least, was the only binding ties that kept here with Umbrella and he wouldn't be leaving until one or both of these possibilities actually came to pass. But that would be a long time to wait for such an event to transpire because, with all the enormous amounts of research, BOWs and progress they had made ever since the beginning of the corporation's illicit endeavors, Umbrella's superiority and high pedestal in the pillars of power was still reigning supreme over all its competitors, and Wesker had yet to find anything to explain Spencer's true motives, despite his transfer and re-evaluated clearance to access information in Umbrella's vast archival system.

So, he would have to remain vigilant to all the activities underway around him if he was to get any further in his goals and to strive through this difficult time of deceit and intrigue.

"What did Spencer call us here for anyway?" Birkin questioned, snapping Wesker out of his thoughts as the two of them left the hallway and began walking down the stairs to Level B2.

Wesker glanced at Birkin impassively then turned his attention back to where he was walking, side-stepping out of the path of two researchers heading in the opposite, both of them nodding in recognition to Wesker and Birkin as they passed.

"Apparently, one of the specimens has gone renegade and has already killed a few of the personnel on site here. The Head Researcher placed a request for aid to detain the subject, since he is afraid that its aggression has reached a high-level that the usual sedatives won't incapacitate it long enough to have security lock it up, but Spencer has decided to dispose of it altogether," Wesker explained, descending the steps towards B3.

"Why are we here then? Surely security here is more than capable enough to handle it, no matter how ignorant or stupid they may be," Birkin stated, folding the papers back together and sliding them in the folder as soon as he had finished it.

Wesker nodded. "If it were any other specimen or BOW that Arklay staff have stored here, then yes, I agree with you. But this is a very...unique specimen they are referring to here with this predicament and Spencer has assigned us to take of the matter ourselves because he believes that our prior knowledge on the subject and past experience in dealing with it will help to keep the situation under control," he explained, pushing open the double doors at the bottom of the stairs and stepping into the hallway, walking up to the entrance to the holding prison and input the passcodes to open it, lowering the levers once he inserted the codes and stepping through the door once the lock clanked open loudly, the sound echoing in the vast and empty corridors for a few seconds before fading away into the eerie silence that they were accustomed to in their years of working at the labs.

"Hmm," was the only sound Birkin made in response as the two of them made their way down the stairs, their footsteps clapping like thunder in the dank and hollow tunnel, droplets of water falling from the ceiling to form large puddles at each stop in the steps where they passed foundations of the stairwell built underground for supporting the floors above, the sharp splash cracking in the cavernous passage when Wesker or Birkin stepped in one on the way down.

"What is this specimen in question?" Birkin finally asked when they reached the nest interval and began making their way to the bottom.

"It's 'Her'. She's the one," Wesker replied forcefully, preferring to simply come out and say it quickly instead of allowing it to loom over him and have to face whatever emotion came forward as his mind revolved around the woman.

Birkin, however, emitted a short gasp and stopped in his tracks, drawing Wesker's attention up to where he stood higher up on the staircase looking down at him with a mortified expression.

"You...You don't mean...Spencer...he...he couldn't," Birkin stammered, the struggle to force his mouth in admitting to what was running through his brain clear as crystalline rock on his face, along with immense disbelief and horrified realization that wormed its way to the surface.

Wesker regarded him with a collected expression, keeping the emotions that crept up on him in check and ensuring they didn't appear on his face for Birkin to see; the man was shocked enough by the real meaning of their orders and he didn't want to encourage the scientist's fear any further.

"If you are referring to the point that he wants us to kill Lisa ourselves, then the answer should be plainly obvious for someone of your intellectual capacities, William," he answered crisply, turning to start back down the steps.

"Why us!?! Why not someone else!?" he demanded, refusing to budge from the spot he rigidly stood on.

Wesker stopped again and looked back up at him, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Because we are the people most experienced in working with her and we know far more about her than anyone else here, since we were the few people who actually paid attention to her, apart from a few of the older members of staff here, and we were the ones in charge of the numerous experiments that she has been through, so we are the ones Spencer would want us present if she is to be disposed of. The security have no idea what she is capable of and possess little knowledge towards what the experiments we had performed on her may have caused, especially with the G-Virus still inside her, so they will naturally need someone involved in the research conducted on her to supervise over the disposal in order to ensure nothing goes wrong," he reiterated coldly to Birkin.

"But she was something we left behind long ago and has nothing more to do with us! She has no purpose with us nor do we have any use for her in our new positions; I have more than enough G-Virus samples extracted from her body to study back at the Raccoon Facility and you are no longer involved in our research because you transferred to the Intelligence Department despite my offer of working together with me on this. Besides, she isn't even useful for research material or preliminary testing; she's practically a waste of space needed to be cleared out and replaced with something more worthwhile to our research. If all he is after is just to kill her and dump at one of the disposal sites for proper removal, he could simply have security take care of that and have her sent to the required facilities to be put through the necessary procedures. All they have to do is put a bullet in her brain, that's all. We have more important work to be doing back at our proper stations than to come here and take care of a matter we aren't a part of, so it's a waste of time that we should be here just to finish her off," Birkin complained, his hand gestures frantic and his face paling in the soft light of the bulbs hanging above them.

That was true. She had only been kept here by Umbrella to use her for their new research on Marcus' T-Virus as a test subject, back when he and Birkin were promoted to be the Head Researchers at the Arklay facility, and Spencer granted them permission to take over the research that Marcus had left behind after his 'retirement'. As their research had continued and more successful results had been made in regards to the T-Virus experiments, which led to the development of several BOWs, Lisa simply faded away into shadow, becoming nothing more than a specter, a phantom that haunted the mansion from where she was locked up in her cell for fleeting months and only remembered by the meaningless gossip that the staff discussed with one another over a cup of coffee during their breaks; she had only recently come back into knowledge of her existence within Umbrella's research because they had required her to take part in an experiment as a test subject to see if they could resolve the major flaws that had appeared in the Tyrant Program, which led to the discovery of the G-Virus. And now, with all of the G-Virus research had been relocated to Birkin's new Raccoon Facility and all the samples he needed already transported to his new workplace, she was no longer required to be here at all and was nothing more than a liability.

So Birkin was correct that security should have been more than enough to dispose of her, even with her supposed 'immortality' rumor that had begun to circulate amongst the staff at Arklay in regards to the numerous experiments performed and the large amount of viral strains pumped into her system; after all, if there was anything left inside her that resembled consciousness and logical thought, she'd only be longing for a quick release from the Hellish existence they had damned her to. But that was standard procedure if they were dealing with a common BOW and Lisa was far more than common, at least to Spencer, Birkin and Wesker.

'You must kill her.'

A simple order to follow up a short and brief explanation of the situation. Quick, precise and to the point; nothing unusual about it.

However, with Spencer, in his enigmatic motivations and whatever passed his ever-growing senility, he knew that was an alternative reason behind the simple command he was given.

_He wants to test us. He wishes to see where our loyalties lie. Just like he had us do to Marcus._

"It doesn't matter," Wesker replied bluntly. "He sent us here to kill her and that is what we shall do. And as you have said before, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave this place behind us, as I am sure you have more important things to do. Or would you rather explain to Spencer why you neglected to carry out your orders when he next sees you?"

Birkin opened his mouth to protest further, to complain, to say anything that would keep him from having to follow his old colleague down the stairs to the room where 'She' was kept, but no words came forth from between his parted lips, his jaw opening and closing in stunned silence and Wesker knew that he had him. Despite how much he resented the chance to meet Lisa again, let alone watch her die, and would like nothing more than to leave the Arklay area altogether, he knew that he had no choice on the matter because Spencer was the one who had called him here and given him the order to take care of with Wesker once they arrived, so he was forced to follow through with the directive until it was finished, no matter what his attitude or opinions may be.

After several minutes of tense silence, the conversation the two men had shared fading away in the void between them, regarding each other with blank stares as they waited for one to respond yet no word came forth, Birkin emitted a small sigh of hopeless regret and nodded in defeat to Wesker, his eyes staring down at the floor and the folder he was reading before lying in a puddle at his feet, his brain too numb to register the image. Wesker simply gestured with his hand over his shoulder towards the cells and carried on back downstairs, Birkin looking up sharply at Wesker's back descending the passage and catching up to keep pace with his colleague.

They turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and saw Lisa's cell ahead at the far end of the hall. Outside the specific cell were four guards, all of them standing by the door with their weapons drawn, fingers on triggers and looking very much on edge, probably down to fear of the creature that resided in the room they were watching over; Wesker couldn't find it in himself to blame them for that since he felt notably anxious whenever he was around Lisa, today being no exception, and Birkin was certainly afraid to see her again, judging by the way he fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

Inside the cell, Lisa let out a deathly moan and the sound of rattling chains accompanied her cry, bestowing on her a supernatural aura, mimicking the traditional view of ghosts and ghouls in children's horror books, which made the guards cringe in fright, one of them glancing nervously through the small window inserted in the top of door to see what she was doing, Wesker shudder slightly at the ghastly sound and Birkin groaned feebly next to him, wiping one shaky hand across his forehead to rid himself of the cold sweat falling from his brow and the dread he was feeling easy to detect in his wide eyes.

Over in the corner, seated on a small wooden chair, just a plain and bland as the tunnel it sat in, was a man dressed in a white lab coat, a clean black shirt underneath, dark blue jeans and white sneakers, looking to be in his mid-twenties, his short brown neatly combed aside from his forehead and his hazel eyes watching the door with a sense on uneasiness at the situation, biting his lower lip as he waited, jumping slightly at the chains and Lisa's eerie call.

Upon closer inspection, Wesker recognized who the young researcher was, since he had read over his personnel file at the Monitor Intelligence Division in order to learn about any new changes to the Arklay Laboratory that had occurred after his transferral and who he would be answering to upon his arrival at the old facility. He was John Howe, the new Head Researcher of the Arklay R&D Laboratories and Birkin's replacement at the Spencer Estate to work on the T-Virus research, or what little of it there was to do at Arklay.

According to the information on the man's past and his current affiliation with Umbrella's bio-weaponry R&D production, John Howe was a graduate from the University of Chicago, passing with honors and PhDs in biology, chemistry and medicine, excelling above his peers at the university and at the Chicago Training Facility where he was introduced into Umbrella's employment at one of their research centers to supervise the manufacture of their pharmaceutical products on par with his evaluation, marking himself off as a successful candidate and an excellent researcher, certainly capable to handle a high-ranking position amongst the scientific department in the corporation. His superiors had voiced numerous times that John was a certifiable genius in his own right and had all the necessary capabilities one required to be of suitability for a position in Umbrella's BOW research programs, claiming that he would be a useful asset if he was properly assigned to a good position to utilize his talents in benefit towards their research.

When Birkin's G-Virus Project was approved and he was transferred to the Raccoon Laboratory complex to begin research onto the new viral strain upon Spencer's instructions, John Howe was one of the many selected to take his place and, due to his current achievements that he had made in his work at Chicago, the potential he showed in his evaluations at the training facility and the unanimous appraisal he had received from his superiors at Chicago, was the one ultimately assigned to the vacant, where he was tasked to oversee all research under experimentation and maintain the Arklay Facility at its current state of affairs to provide optimum efficiency for their research to make new progress into the T-Virus whilst reporting any new findings either directly to the board or to Birkin, whom was the designated Consultant Researcher.

However, despite his extensive career within the corporation, the amount of efficient work he had achieved and the large support he had earned from his former superiors in Chicago, Dr Howe had somehow managed to arouse the general suspicions of both the Executive Board and the staff working underneath him, casting doubt upon his integrity as a high-ranking scientific researcher for Umbrella's BOW production lines and as a member of Umbrella's summation as a whole, and it had increased to the extent that Colonel Sergei Vladimir had become interested in him, opting to place a closer observation on what he would be up to in the coming weeks in order to determine his actual motivation behind his recent discrepancies.

It seemed that, whilst he had been stationed at Arklay for a couple of weeks and was granted access to all of the data available in the laboratories, he had shown signs of malcontent in his duties and was coming at odds with the research Umbrella was conducting as some of the staff had reported that he was questioning them constantly about their work, demanding to know what was Umbrella's reasons behind their willingness to conduct this particular scientific research and what they were aspiring to create from everything they developed thus far, explaining that there must have been a rather substantial and definitive reason to warrant such madness. He had even started to voice his own opinions about their work out loud to other members of staff, claiming it was too 'inhuman' and 'amoral' to conduct such genetic research and experiments, stating that they could not continue with this if it was too cost so much lives and break so many laws to complete it, submitting these allegations in his reports and sending them up to the board in an attempt to 'dissuade them from marching down the road of insanity', to disband their potentially catastrophic research before it became too much of a dire situation for them to handle, instead to focus more on the manufacturing of their pharmaceutical marketing trade, explaining that with their current sales rising well-above estimated stock prices for the present year alone and the amount of respect and intense popularity they had with the public, if they were to focus more on selling more medicinal products to the public and their list of respective clients in the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium, then their current funding would double significantly over the next few months.

Naturally, Spencer and the board were quite disturbed by these reports because a Head Researcher working on a classified productive venture was demanding answers to justify their research and was requesting that all current actions into developing the product be canceled to focus on something less coinciding to their personal goals, in addition to the fact that he was displaying behavior similar to show that he was too revolted by the ramifications of their work to continue in his position for much longer.

They had even begun considering the possibility that, if he was to continue working at his current position long enough and his thoughts became too provoking and his emotions gnawed away at his guilty conscious long enough, he may attempt to steal some of Umbrella's research data and expose what the pharmaceutical corporation was actually developing behind its bright public statements by leaking information to the press or the authorities; even with Umbrella's vast influence and power embedded in nearly every government, law enforcement agency and press distribution centers, they still didn't control every living person out there, only a select few with enough power to ensure their research stays hidden, but not even the help of the world's richest and most powerful could save Umbrella if the public marched against it.

Thus, it was only appropriate that the board motioned for Monitor to maintain an observatory approach towards John Howe to determine what if the possibility under consideration would actually come to pass and to take the necessary actions to prevent it; with the increased presence of Monitor Agents at Arklay to watch over John as he continued his duties at the Arklay Labs and observe his behavior to notice signs that he was growing too distant from Umbrella's goals to remain any longer in his position without becoming a threat, several of the Intelligence Agents began to discuss the situation about Dr Howe amongst themselves, making assumptions and spreading rumors about the man's estranged point-of-view, proclaiming that he was antagonizing the board too far with his dictated views on the matter, which inevitably came to Wesker's ears.

It quickly became speculative that if there WAS an information leak to the public from within Umbrella's R&D Department, then John Howe would be the most likely suspect and, should any evidence come to light that he was indeed the one responsible, the corporation would take measures to ensure that he didn't expose any more of the corporation's secrets by any means necessary, or so it was rumored.

_However, Umbrella has done it before and it is highly doubtful they wouldn't do it again if such a similar dilemma appeared. John Howe had best be careful and watch his tongue if he wishes to remain alive for the next few years with Umbrella._

As Wesker and Birkin drew closer, the guards snapped to attention and John stood up, straightening out his coat and shirt as he approached, a polite smile etched on his young face.

"John Howe, Arklay Head Researcher. You must be Mr Wesker and Dr Birkin," he greeted, holding out his hand to shake them.

Wesker ignored the gesture and Birkin simply scoffed, swatting the hand aside.

"Spare us the pleasantries, Howe, and tell us what has happened," Birkin demanded harshly, his gaze snapping towards the door, the contempt and dissatisfaction he held towards the other staff around him barely masking his anxiety at the prospect of meeting Lisa face-to-face again.

John was taken aback by their lack of emotion towards his friendly gesture and flinched slightly at Birkin's tone, letting his hand fall by his side, obviously still not yet accustomed to Birkin's sharp tongue and harsh manner. but he straightened himself up, putting on the aura of professionalism and concentration that was demanded from a man in his position.

"Well, it all started at least one week ago, during one of our routine check-us on the specimen. Upon my orders and the directives handed down to me on my application to this position, I had decided to cancel all of our current examinations for the previous week and have all specimens put away into storage whilst we gathered up all of the data on our research for me to include in my report to you and the board. We want to avoid any problems that might appear in any of the lab areas and ensure that everything was running smoothly in preparation for the new project we had scheduled for the next few weeks," John began, gesturing towards the cell.

"What project is this?" Birkin demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the man. "I was never notified on any new project to begin at this facility anytime soon."

John shrunk back slightly at Birkin's piercing glare, clearing his throat to regain some composure. "It was to be included in the report I intended to send to you. Some of the staff had decided to use the new secondary lab area beneath the guardhouse to conduct a different approach to the T-Virus. We had opted to experiment the effects the T-Infection would have on a sea-based creature, such as a Great White Shark, and speculate if we could develop a suitable BOW from it. Once we had gathered all of the current data we had made and I had made the necessary evaluations on our week's productivity, I was to send it to you for you to look over and determine the proper course of action on where to focus our efforts on the next week, and whether or not I should send my reports to the board," he answered, carefully phrasing his words so as to explain his reasoning without provoking Birkin's temper.

Birkin glared at the man thoughtfully for several minutes before he nodded his head and glanced off towards the cell where Lisa was held. Wesker had to admit that he found it impressive for a man considerably beneath Birkin's ability and was totally unaware of how reprimanding the man could be to actually be able to appeal to Birkin's scientific principles and provide a sufficient explanation to dissuade Birkin from taking his head off for his incompetence. It reflected quite well on the man's characteristics and his ability to handle the job.

_Maybe some of that support from his superiors in Chicago wasn't as baseless as people would think._

"And 'She' was included in your report as well?" Birkin asked.

John nodded. "Yes. I had one of my research assistants come down here to perform a routine medical-check on her, to see if some unknown mutations had occurred in her isolation or if she required nutrition and to retrieve the data from the hard-drive monitoring her vital systems. Although we hardly pay her much attention in comparison with other research we conduct here under your command or on orders from the board, I felt it necessary to make sure that she at least well looked after whilst she is sealed away and I thought you might agree due to her importance with the G-Virus Project, what with the presence of the strain in her system."

"Why would you send an assistant to handle it? If you wanted to avoid any troubles or problematic situations, you should have either done it yourself or ensured that another high-ranking researcher was there to supervise the operation," Birkin stated, folding his arms over his chest.

John nodded grimly, one hand rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I suppose you're right. But we had security on hand down here to keep watch over the live specimens sealed away and Janice is...was a very competent woman in her duties, so we didn't expect her to require any help for something as simple as downloading files on a floppy disk. Besides, until only recently, the specimen in question wasn't even that much responsive to anyone who entered her cell nor did she manage to eat much of anything we had given to her for nutrition, so we all assumed that she would be too weak to react to Janice's presence, let alone attack her. But, none of us expected her to act as...aggressively as she did," he explained, casting his eyes to the floor.

"Define 'aggressively'," Wesker inquired curtly, stepping up towards the door and peering in through the window at Lisa where she lay against the far wall opposite the solid metal door, a large wooden manacle clamped over both her wrists with a long chain padlocked to the clasp and trailing to a small metal loop in the wall above her, two similar manacles locked around her ankles and connected to two other metal loops in the wall by long chains, her chest slowly rising and falling beneath her tatty and filthy hospital gown, her only article of clothing, as her head hung mercifully out of sight, a plate covered with some unidentifiable meat and bones left alone on the floor by her feet.

John swallowed hard. "She...To elaborate on this point, this behavior had never been observed before during my employment nor did any of the other staff claim that she had acted this way before my arrival, so I didn't know how best to act. In any case, a few days before the first incident, the specimen had shown signs of peculiarities in her behavior, moaning, snarling at visitors and screaming in the middle of the night, which had perpetually spooked a lot of staff on hand here, and her vital signs, more specifically her brain wave patterns, have become erratic and began responding strangely to the usual sedative we prescribe her with to keep her quiet. Then her behavior began to escalate rapidly, making her more predisposed towards violence and aggression, in which she'd attempt to lash out at anyone who entered her room or would roar at them in rage or agony or God knows what else with her. And her vital signs went berserk, blood pressure was exponentially higher, heart rate increased dramatically and her brain waves were sporadic at best; at first we thought it was the G-Virus causing a new mutation in her body or it was the Nemesis Parasite reacting to its implantation in the host after all these years of dormancy, but we lacked any proper explanation for it and none of us felt particularly interested to investigate her condition further, so we focused on more productive means," he explained, stepping up to Wesker's side and joining him in watching Lisa slumped against the wall asleep, her breathing ragged and rough from behind her deformed complexion as she snored lightly in her sleep, echoing against the hollow tunnels around her.

"And this promoted her 'aggressive' behavior, as you put it?" Wesker asked again, straightening his sunglasses on his nose as Birkin stepped up behind him and glanced over his shoulder at Lisa.

"Yes. However we were confident that security could handle her and that she tightly sealed away to cause any harm, but we were careful not to approach her in her violent state. Then her behavior worsened further and she started to act grotesquely, which resulted in the incident," John answered, his face looking quite ill and paling in the light of the tunnel, making his expression shine brighter in the tunnel.

"What did she do?" Birkin asked.

"Janice had gotten too close...and the specimen attacked her."

Wesker snapped his head over to Howe. "How bad was it?"

John took in a deep shaky breath, turning away from the door and placed a hand over his mouth, looking as if we was about to throw up his lunch. "She...she...she managed to catch Janice and...and tear off her face. Then she...she attached it to her...head and has began wearing it like...like some kind of...mask."

Wesker's eyes widened behind his sunglasses and Birkin let out a small gasp of shock. Both of them knew this was the form of behavior she was prone to exhibit and act upon, which was plain to see on her complexion, as much of it was hidden behind the many different masks of rotting and putrefying skin she wore over her own face, each of them twisted into expressions of agony and terror, their mouths hanging open forever in silent screams, evidence of her depraved psychotic behavior caused by the genetic experimentations she had suffered from. She had even exhibited this kind of behavior back when she was first captured by Umbrella and brought to Arklay as a test subject, her reaction to the administration of the Progenitor Virus driving her insane and forcing her to rend away the faces of her victims to wear over her own, as Spencer had explained to them when they first met Lisa after their promotion and transfer.

Somehow, this particular behavior and action towards human beings had been restored in her conscious after all these years of inactivity and obscurity, despite the severe amount of damage that must have rendered her brain irreparable from the effects of the infection in a host's brain cells, even though she was supposedly 'immortal'. But Wesker wasn't here to perform a scientific investigation into her mental state from the infections flowing through her bloodstream; he was here to kill her and organize her disposal.

"I trust you took the proper precautions in regards to her rapidly-declining mental state and her increased aggression?" Wesker inquired, walking away from the door and leaning against the wall at the opposite side with his arms crossed, watching Birkin, Howe, the guards and Lisa from behind his dark shades.

John nodded, the color slowly returning to his face with each new breath he took. "Yes. I had security properly restrain her further and I administered a large dosage of a BOW sedative to render her incapacitated, to prevent her from escaping and attacking any more of the staff, although it had taken over 50ccs to knock her out and the security team were forced to use several Spark Shot charges to bring her under control for me to administer the sedative. I guess the rumors about her are true to some extent after all. Anyway, after we were sure that she was completely immobile, I had them remove Janice's body and sent it to be properly disposed off in case she had contracted any trace of the viruses within the specimen's body. Afterwards, I sent my report directly to the board, along with details of the incident, and asked to be informed on what my next course of action was to be taken in regards to the woman's increasingly hostile demeanor. In the meantime, I had security keep watch over her 24/7 to ensure that she wouldn't have a chance to escape in her rage and report any new developments in her behavior to me; as for the science staff under me, I told them to focus more on preparing for the Neptune Project and only pay attention to the woman when she is need of nutrition whilst we waited for orders from the board," he answered as confidently as he could, trying to remain calm even with his growing nausea.

"What happened with the specimen?" Birkin inquired, turning away from the window and walking off a few feet down the hall, neglecting to look over at John or Wesker as he spoke, his arms slack at his side.

"Well, her behavior didn't improve or degrade any further after the incident; she was still acting with a degree of hostility towards any of the staff whom brought her food and her vital signs returned to satisfactory levels, despite a few anomalous spikes in her brain wave patterns, even though we had applied a considerable dosage of the recommended sedative at regular intervals to keep her under control but they seemed to have no effect on her, only forcing her to sleep for a couple of hours on end, then she'd wake up and begin howling again to the chagrin of our staff. Otherwise, she wasn't much of a worry after a while and security reported no escape attempts from her, so we assumed that everything was under control and we opted to keep things as they are to keep the labs running smoothly until we received notification from the board," John answered, glancing between Birkin and Wesker.

"And nothing problematic occurred?" Wesker inquired, the raised eyebrow the only hint of emotion on his face.

"Essentially, everything was coming along fine in the labs. My staff had the Aqua Ring up and running efficiently enough to sustain the aquatic specimens we intended to perform the experiments on, we had all the necessary equipment and measures needed to monitor our progress in the Neptune Project, and I had just finished the necessary reports on our new venture and all of the current research made in the labs to be sent to Dr Birkin for him to deem it worthwhile to explore and to post the request to Umbrella's Asian Division to supply us with the aquatic specimens we specified. Additionally, we had intended for Dr Birkin to examine the report for his professional opinion and to determine if it needed Lord Spencer and the Executive Board to approve it before we commenced development. However, a few days ago, during another routine medical examination, the specimen...became violent again," John stated solemnly, his gaze shifting towards the cell again.

"What happened?"

"She...attacked...another three personnel."

"How bad was it?" Birkin questioned, still staring back towards the staircase blankly, raising one hand to wipe at his forehead.

"Two more researchers were killed, both of them female. They had gotten too careless and had made the mistake of approaching the specimen at a distance she could reach them without forcing herself against the restraints. She had managed to strangle one of them and tore the face off the other; we tried to save them but Grace and Elle had passed on, Grace had died from a broken hyriod bone and Elle bled out before we arrived, and the specimen had already patched on their faces when we came into the cell. It was a mess," John said, his complexion growing null and depressed at the memory of the incidents.

Wesker remained silent, simply regarding the man with a cool gaze, reaching up with one hand to straighten his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, but he swore that he heard Birkin mutter 'Shit.' under his breath in a quiet hiss from where he was standing, his hand clutching tightly on the lose bangs falling in front of his eyes and pulling hard on them.

"Who was the third fatality?" he continued.

"A security guard," John answered bluntly, looking over at Wesker with a pale face, passing his hand through his black hair, messing it up from its combed style. "He had tried to force her back with some of his colleagues and keep hold of her while I applied the sedative to knock her out, but she got a hold of him and bit into his neck."

Wesker nodded, his expression calm and collected as he put on for the world, but inside his heartbeat started to pick up to a faster pace. "And the bodies?"

"At disposal. In the Raccoon Facilities. The Manager at the plant said he received them early yesterday morning and had begun the necessary protocols for proper disposal, to ensure that there was no trace of an infection. It was a few hours later that the board called me and informed that she was to be terminated at once, saying that they would have Dr Birkin and you, Mr Wesker, on site to supervise the procedure."

At least John Howe had acted accordingly to control the situation and make the right steps to clearing up the recent mess brought up by Lisa's renewed anger and previously noted psychotic-behavior since they had yet to determine if how Birkin's new G-Virus strain was transferred from host to host and it was important that any person who came into with Lisa, alive or otherwise, to be decontaminated or disposed before there was a chance of an outbreak to occur.

Umbrella's Executive Board, Research Department and Private Military Forces, and Wesker included since he had already studied most of the records on the previous outbreaks, were fully aware of what damage the T-Virus could do if it escaped yet they had no idea on what the G-Virus would cause if it was to be allowed to spread nor did anyone wish to entertain such a notion.

As for Lisa, with the G-Virus Project already in progress at Birkin's Raccoon Facility, she was no longer required for anything to do with Umbrella's BOW research and had become nothing more than a liability, and, despite Spencer's ulterior motives for bringing Birkin and Wesker here to carry out the deed, her hostile behavior was becoming too much of a problem for the Arklay staff to handle and causing delays in their research, so the board voted that she be terminated at once and disposed of quickly for the Arklay laboratories to return to more pressing matters.

_It appears that her wish for eternal peace and slumber will come true. After all the pain and suffering she has endured, she will finally be set free of it all after today. Whatever is left of a human mind in there will most likely be glad to leave this all behind to embark for the unknown. Anything must be better than this Hell we have damned her to._

Pushing himself off the wall, Wesker pulled out the pistol he had nestled in the holster strapped to his left thigh, briefly inspecting it and loading a full clip inside, and walked over to Birkin, tapping him once on the shoulder to notify him it was time to get the job done-

-when the door at the top of the stairs creaked open suddenly and slammed shut again with a thunderous metallic clunk, followed by the sounds of footsteps descending the steps towards the bottom where they stood in front of the cells, the rapid, rhythmical sequence of sharp clicks from high-heeled shoes partially reminding him of a Chimera BOW

As the footsteps drew closer, the clicking noise growing louder as it echoed through the hollow tunnels, Wesker swore he could hear the angry hiss of the Chimera accompanying the clicks and he tightened his grip on the gun in his hand, almost compelled to raise it towards the stairs and wait for the BOW to appear from the stairway to provide him with a clear shot to the head before it had a chance to rip him to pieces, but he resisted the urge and kept the gun by his side, waiting for the person to appear, shaking the paranoid thought away before it began to set.

On par with his sense of self-preservation, Wesker always ensured that he avoided the slightest hint of paranoia and keep it from influencing his thoughts before it settled in completely, but being employed with a corporation like Umbrella working on something so diabolically horrendous that it had the potential to wipe out the Earth and all species that inhabited its surface and having it run by a power-hungry, delusional old man whom had no concept of human sanity or morality, paranoia was a basic commodity.

"John? Are you down here?" a woman's voice called out in a deep satiny tone of voice, the slight purr underlying the words only barely registrable.

John looked up at the voice, beaming widely. "I'm here, Ada!" he replied energetically, the color returning quickly to his face.

Soon, a young woman appeared from around the corner by the stairway and, as soon she saw John, her face broke out in a small smile that shone in the shadows that resided around the bottom of the staircase.

"So this was where you were hiding, huh? Dark, wet and terrifying? I never pictured your taste for indoor renovation and decor to be so far lacking in taste," she quipped dryly, placing one hand on her hip and shaking her head slightly in mock disapproval.

John chuckled. "Believe me, Ada, this is one place I'd soon be glad to leave behind," he retorted.

Wesker's eyes narrowed slightly at John's words. He'd best be careful saying such things and who he says that to.

"I'm sure of that," the woman, Ada, responded. The smile then vanished from her face and she walked closer to him, her high-heels clicking with each step. "Actually, I came here to deliver you a report from Dr Crackhorn and his team regarding the Neptune Project's testing area, the Aqua Ring facility built beneath the guardhouse, and its suitability for experimental procedures and storage of the completed BOWs; they have just finished making calculations and measurements towards how much water we shall need for the project and have decided that we will need to continue construction to install a plumbing system required to pump in the large amounts of water that will provide a suitable environment to house the BOWs."

As the woman came further into the light provided by the bulbs hanging from the ceiling above, Wesker was able to analyze the woman, Ada, in full detail. She was quite young, possibly no more than twenty years of age, wearing a white lab coat over a bright crimson-red blouse, black slacks and red high-heeled shoes polished to a mirror sheen, two ruby-studded earrings sparkling in the minuscule light and a butterfly-shaped diamond necklace, looking to be quite expensive and exquisite in taste for someone to wear in a lab, was wrapped around her slender neck, clipped together by a wing-shaped clasp at the back. Her hair was cut very short in length and reached down past her eyes, its color jet black and full of luster, neatly combed in place with several of the bangs hovering in front of her right eye, their light brown color focused on the new Head Researcher with an almost cold intensity, their almond shape seeming to indicate she was Asian in descent, although her physique could be classified to be a trait of European origin, fine-boned yet tall with a solid athletic build, implying that she was of mixed racial ascent. She appeared to have a calm and precise persona about her being, emitting an aura of confidence in her abilities and intelligence that were subtly displayed in her gaze, displaying a hint of arrogance within the way she spoke, her face stern and focused on the topic she was engaged in with John, any trace of the previous smile invisible on her seemingly-porcelain face. Every part of her attire was incredibly well-kept and clean, no crease at all on the fabric, looking as if it had been freshly-pressed and only just removed from the dry-cleaners, and her face was adorned in a similar style of make-up, outlining her features to extenuate her effeminate beauty to a certain level of extravagance, giving her the resemblance of a China Doll figurine, but refraining from hiding most of her natural complexion behind multiple aesthetics, using only olive lip-gloss and simple black eyeliner.

She was certainly a...unique individual to be working at one of Umbrella's secret biological-weaponry development facilities, especially as a member of the research teams, no matter what position she held in the staff.

John complexion hardened at Ada's stern tone of voice, all humor and mirth vanishing from his face. "All right. Where is the report now?"

Ada reached into her lab coat and pulled out a manila folder, holding it out towards him. "It's all in here, including all of the week's research data gathered from the laboratories currently active and the original reports you intended to send to Dr Birkin."

"I'll take that," Birkin snapped, snatching the folder from Ada's hand and opening it up, pulling out the first sheet of paper and immersed himself in reading it. "It's best I read it now and offer you my opinion whilst I am still on-site."

At the realization of who the man in front of her was, a spark of keen interest flickered sharply in Ada's gaze before it was replaced by a feigned sense of professional admiration, all in the space of a fleeting second and extremely subtle to prevent anyone from noticing the reaction, except for Wesker whom had always a profound insight into a person's expressions and actions, no matter how well-hidden they may be, and his ability to determine what that person was thinking by these traits.

"You're Dr Birkin? THE Dr Birkin? The highly-esteemed creator of the Tyrant-Virus?" Ada inquired curtly.

Birkin glanced up briefly from his work to look at her with an impassive stare then diverted his eyes back to the folder in his hands. "Yes, I am. And I am surprised that someone who works here is NOT aware of my affiliation to the operations conducted in this installation since I am in charge of supervising all research endeavors made here and to evaluate any potentially profitable projects for development. If you have not even found out that piece of information until now, then I can say your capabilities and ," he stated arrogantly.

Ada's brow furrowed slightly in anger at his tone, especially at the way he attempted to humiliate her lack of knowledge on his appearances at Arklay, and then shifted her gaze to Wesker, regarding his quiet gaze with a raised delicate eyebrow. "And you are?" she asked politely.

"Albert Wesker. I was sent here by Lord Spencer to oversee the disposal of the specimen that has caused the recent incidents at this site," Wesker introduced himself sternly, keeping his expression neutral and keeping the information he told to her as limited as possible, adhering to Umbrella's strict policies on information and data distribution amongst facility staff and security pertaining valid and appropriate levels of clearance.

Ada gazed at Wesker with a cold expression, analyzing him from the way her eyes regarded him with severe scrutiny, but she simply flashed him a polite smile and nodded curtly to him before turning back to John and Birkin. "Is everything in order, Doctor?"

Birkin skimmed through each of the papers in turn, stuffing them back in the folder when he had finished them all and handing the folder to John, his eyes cold and steely, the ever-perfectionist within him rising to the surface. "I see nothing of notable misconduct or potentially wastage of time and resources, since your staff and facilities are currently inactive in terms of our BOW production and the research on the Tyrant-Virus, but I recommend that you send this report over to the Executive Board for their collective opinion on the matter and receive their final word on the subject. Additionally, as they are also concerned with the recent incidents caused by the specimen and the initial damage caused by her increased aggression, it would be wise to include everything in your previous reports for them to archive in the corporation's records," he ordered sternly, turning away from the two of them and walking up to the cell, gazing in at Lisa's slumbering form.

John nodded curtly, tucked the folder beneath his right arm and turned to walk back up the stairs to begin making preparations to deliver the report to the board-

-when Ada held out a slender hand, stopping him in his tracks, and stepped in front of him, placing hands on the side of his face and stared at his complexion with a stern gaze, her mouth formed into a tight line on her face. "Are you alright, John? You seem a lot paler than usual," she asked, an edge of concern in her voice.

John nodded hastily, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, black bags already beginning to develop under them. "Yeah, yeah...Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. It's just...this whole mess...it's been quite stressful and I have rarely gotten enough sleep, what with keeping the labs running, cleaning up the mess caused by that specimen and notifying the board of all our recent...developments," he said wearily, offering her a reassuring grin to convince her he didn't want her to worry about him.

The expression on her face, however, showed that she refused to be placated by assertions. "Don't lie for my sake. You're already over-worked as it is and you can't keep pushing yourself so much when you are clearly exhausted. Once this whole mess is done, you better get some rest and have something healthy to eat, none of those snacks you snatch from the cafeteria or that disgusting coffee you always drink," she retorted sharply.

John opened his mouth to protest against her advice, but stopped himself short when he noticed how hard and unyielding her gaze was, along with the stubborn expression on her face, telling him well enough that she wasn't going to argue with him.

"Alright, Ada. I'll get this sent off, then I'll grab myself a quick nap in the office once I make sure that all of the staff have everything running smoothly during my sleep," he said in resignation.

"No," Ada added forcefully, her electric gaze refusing to move from his tired face, the stern and sharp gaze enough to keep any man quiet. "You need to get something healthy down your system and have yourself some rest before you collapse altogether, and I'm sure that everyone here could do without the notion of the Head Researcher passing out with the current situation being as tenuous as it already is. You just get this report sent off then take some time off for your health; I'll make sure that everything will keep going as scheduled in your absence. Just leave everything to me." She then glanced at Wesker and Birkin. "Is that alright with you?"

Wesker simply shrugged his shoulders in response and Birkin made no inclination to respond at Ada's question, content with watching Lisa through the small hatch in her door, his hands stuffed in his lab coat pockets and completely silent as he stood by the cell, observing every action Lisa made with a fixed interest, ignoring the conversation passing between the people around him.

"You may do as you like. We are only here on the Executive Board's request to help dispose of the renegade specimen that was responsible for the culmination of these unsettling events. However, John will have to inform his staff to continue monitoring the specimen's vital signs for the next few days in order to ensure that we have properly killed her and that she is disposed of properly without the risk of an infection spreading during the procedure, especially in regards to her condition. I am certain that I need not remind of the extreme dangers that come with this line of research," he stated grimly, gesturing with a slight inclination of his head towards Lisa's cell, another low ghastly moan emanating from behind the door.

The guards flinched at the eerie noise, clenching their weapons tighter and casting anxious glances at the door, fearing that she might try to break free from her confinement, awaiting the first slam of force against the door. Birkin jumped and leaped back a few steps, putting distance between himself and the door, his face blanching visibly and his trembling hands held up in defense, as of to wade off Lisa when he knew that such a thing wouldn't help him if she caught him. Wesker merely clenched his hands into fists across his folded arms, his fingers grasping the fabric of his shirt sleeves tightly and stretching it, threatening to rip the pieces off his sleeves, suppressing a shudder that crept up on him as the sound echoed throughout the room. John cringed in fright at the sound and held a hand up to ward Ada back from the cell, but she leaned around his bulk and stared at the door expectantly, that brief twinkle of interest and curiosity flashing in her eyes again before it was replaced by a frightened expression, one of her hands tentatively grasping John's arm for support and comfort. Or so she wanted the act to appear.

As the moan rang out with an eerie note in the tunnels and the echo slowly died out to be replaced by an oppressive silence broken only by the steady drip-drip-drip noise of water falling from the ceiling into the puddles accumulating on the floor, Wesker glanced at one of the guards, his expression calm despite how unnerving that sound was to him.

"Is she active and moving about?" he asked.

The guard took a discreet yet hesitant glance into the hatch, staring at Lisa to see if she would moan again or try to pounce on him from where she sat by the wall and shook his head when she didn't move. "Nothing yet sir. I think she's still asleep."

Wesker nodded and shifted his gaze towards John, whom was still shielding Ada.

"Before you do anything else, Dr Howe, you will have to explain the situation to your staff on the necessary procedures we have to undertake and to have them continue disposal once we confirm her death. In the meantime, Dr Birkin and I will take care of the specimen, with the security detachment on back-up in case of...trouble. So, I would like you to speak with the Head of Security and send additional security personnel down here as soon as possible, then inform your staff of what they will be doing for the next few days," Wesker ordered briskly, staring at him coldly over the lenses of his sunglasses, neglecting to straighten them as his ice-blue eyes stared at the Head Researcher and his assistant, the anxiety and unease towards the close proximity with Lisa wiped from his gaze.

John stood rigidly in place, acting in his new-found role as a defensive shield for Ada, staring blankly at Wesker, the shock and terror plain to see on his face, his mouth opening and closing in silence to voice a response but none came out from between his shivering lips, but he soon snapped out of his daze, his eyes blinking rapidly into focus and he passed Wesker a shaky nod. "Yes sir," he responded curtly. He then looked back at Ada. "I'll tell the staff what they will have to about the specimen's disposal over the next few days and that they are answering to Dr Birkin and Mr Wesker's orders from now on concerning this matter. I'll also send this report to the board for them to examine in regards to both this troublesome matter and whether or not we should proceed with the Neptune Project. Then...I'll have something from the cafeteria, no vending machine snacks, and get some sleep. Is that okay?"

Ada glared at John for a few seconds more, removing her hands from his face and letting them fall by her sides as she continued to stare at him, the expression she wore displaying how she found his stubbornness to be in her opinion, but she sighed in frustration and placed a hand against her forehead, shaking her head slightly at him. "Fine. If you have to do this, then go do it. It'll take a miracle to persuade you otherwise once you have your mind set on something. Besides, since the Executive Board are expecting this matter to be resolved and for you to deliver them a report on what we've been doing over the past few days, you need to follow whatever orders are given to you. You best get all of the staff prepared for the operation and send that report off to the board for their evaluation. But after you are done, you WILL do what I say and take some time off for yourself before you do anything else for the day. And I don't care what kind of excuses you have or what anyone else requires you to do; you will get some rest and food even if I have to force you to. Understood?" she commanded fiercely.

John nodded in firm understanding at Ada's orders, deciding that it was wise not to argue with her, and looked up at her face, returning her stern gaze in full with a steely glare he mustered for himself. However, a grateful and affectionate smile broke up on his face and he placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "God. What would I do without you?" he quipped fondly, his entire attitude making a sudden snap in change to another emotion altogether.

Ada cocked her head to one side, placing both hands on her hips and grinned playfully at him. "Not very much. Lord knows you can't do anything right without someone to help you or guide to you as you stumble around in the dark searching for answers with that thick skull of yours," she remarked, laughing softly, glancing down only briefly at the hand on her shoulder.

John chuckled and rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation at her remark, his smile growing wider. "Hey. I managed to keep this place up and running for four years running, even before you had arrived here and been assigned as my personal assistant," he stated dryly.

Ada shook her head, still smiling. "Only because you had the other staff here to keep you from going astray like the lost dog you can be. You can be so hopeless sometimes. I honestly have no idea what to do with you and I am sure that you have no idea what to do with yourself either," she retorted.

"I suppose that's true," John said in agreement. "But at least I have you helping me all the way, Ada."

Ada leaned forward and gave a friendly peck on the cheek, smiling as John's face blushed bright red, embarrassed that she had done that when Wesker was still in the area and watching them. "Just get your work done and have some sleep. There is nothing of great importance that requires your attention or any situation that needs your supervision, so you can just relax for a few hours and take a load of your shoulders. I'll make sure that the staff keep all of the Arklay facilities operations running smoothly and on schedule, along with writing up the necessary reports and uploading all of the research data into the network, so you won't have to worry about missing the board's deadlines in regards to our work. Trust me," she said reassuringly, placing a small hand over his on her shoulder and squeezing it tightly, before she spun around and walked back down the tunnel to the staircase, her high-heels clicking with each step and her slender hips rolling smoothly to her pace, earning some glances from the guards by the cell door, watching her walk away for several seconds before Birkin shot them an icy glare, forcing their attention back to the door.

When she reached the staircase, she offered a friendly wave to John and a curt nod towards Wesker and Birkin before she turned the corner and proceeded up the stairs, her clicking footsteps gradually growing quieter even as the sharp step of her heels echoed in the cavernous passage, providing that haunting noise that rang with the same hollow approach of a Chimera BOW, until the door creaked open at the top and slammed shut.

Wesker stood there watching Ada Wong as she walked away, observing her with an intense scrutiny and listening carefully to every word she said to him, Birkin or John, discerning the emotions and reactions to specific parts of the conversation that she attempted to hide from them to prevent any suspicion, and continued to stare at the place where she had been standing after he heard the door slam, lost in his own thoughts. He ignored John's polite farewell and didn't notice him head off towards the stairs, his ears failing to pick up the sounds of the door opening and closing for a second time or Birkin speaking to the guards about the disposal procedures as his instincts tugged incessantly at the back of his mind, warning him that there was something strange about Miss Ada Wong, arousing his suspicions towards her behavior and her subtle yet predictable attempts to keep her reactions hidden from them, wary of whether or not they could read the faint snippets of emotion that flashed across her face.

He had heard of Ada Wong but only in name and professional position within Umbrella's employment alone, only linked to her by her connection with Dr John Howe. It seems that, a few months after Dr Howe took over Birkin's former position as Head Researcher for the Arklay Laboratories and had begun his new duties in conjuncture with the increased authority that came as part of the new position, Miss Ada Wong had appeared out of the blue, a seemingly fresh candidate that had managed to make it through the criteria in Umbrella's Training Facilities, with a mandate that granted her a position in the Arklay Labs and was assigned to be one of the research assistants to the science teams already stationed there, working alongside whatever pproject demanded her assistance.

Only after a couple of weeks, Miss Wong had apparently become affiliated in a relationship with John Howe, the two of them growing into something of a couple, to the extent that his authorization-clearance password into the Umbrella's communication network and database system was changed to her first name, and Dr Howe had her re-assigned to work with him as his personal assistant; most of the staff were surprised or embittered about the sparkling relationship between Dr Howe and Miss Wong, due to the fact that, to a majority of the staff here, it was deemed impossible for anyone, despite how talented, high-ranking or sociable they may be, to actually form an attraction to another person and act upon it considering the sensitive nature of their research that they were conducting in Umbrella's secret facilities, in addition to the extreme consequences of working on such scientific development and the amount of pressure Spencer and the Executive Board applied to all of their employees for quick results; this also provoked a lot of resentment towards the young couple because some of the science team members, a lot of them involving the oldest staff members still working at Arklay after decades of research upon its completion in the '60s, were jealous and filled with envy towards Miss Wong at her speedy promotion to work alongside the new Head Researcher, seeing her hurried rise through the ranks as nothing more than her seduction to his naivety for her to get the position she desired easily when it should go to them as a reward for their hard work.

Wesker, however, was not that much surprised by the rumors of Miss Wong and Dr Howe being intimate with each other, even with the amoral and deadly genetic experimentation under production within the vast pharmaceutical corporation, since he had already witnessed such an event beforehand in his career as a researcher, in the form of his colleague's family life, the most unlikely and refutable situation anyone could have come up with.

But, there was still something about Ada Wong that tugged at his intuition, which seemed to compel his suspicions and rack his mind with questions that his instincts revolved on her, due to the differential factors and peculiarities about who she was that certainly didn't coincide with that expected of a research assistant that was employed in one of Umbrella's T-Viral BOW R&D facilities.

Judging by her physical appearance, she certainly seemed to stand out a lot from the other scientific researchers because, obviously deduced from her athletic build and lean musculature, she possessed a superbly-conditioned body that was maintained via rigorous training and a regulated healthy diet balanced to ensure her body stayed in its intended level of fitness; that in itself could be conceived as an unusual trait to find in a person working in Umbrella's science teams since, due to the extreme fascination they held towards their research, the tenuous working-hours enforced on them through strict schedules and procedures, and considerable pressure the board stacked on them with their impatience and haste, nearly all of the research staff barely had any time to adhere to the basic needs a human being required, such as suitable hours of sleep, food and drink, even basic cleanliness and hygiene.

However, in regards to the extenuating circumstances placed upon them, they were usually reduced to eating half-heartedly prepared meals in the cafeterias during break, snatching cups of coffee from machines in their offices and catching short naps between work-shifts to keep them going, so no one had the time to even eat anything remotely well-prepared or healthy, let alone keep up with sleep or maintain an exercise routine to stay in physical shape. But, in the case Miss Wong, not only did she have a peak physique that she could manage to maintain despite the amount of work she was to perform in her position to assist the Head Researcher, she also seemed to have enough time on her hands to earn the necessary hours of sleep, the lack of any traces of exhaustion enough to prove that she was rarely plagued by insomnia and lack of suitable rest that afflicted most of the research staff under Umbrella's employment.

To further provide evidence of her substantial difference from the majority of the Arklay staff, the attire that she wore, although simplistic in context and depicted that of an ordinary outfit one could find anywhere, exhibiting a certain level of rather extravagant taste and elegant fashion in both outfits and accessories, since the butterfly necklace she wore around her neck certainly looked to be estimated at a cost of over $100, which was a substantial difference between the normal conformal taste that the other researchers had, considering that none of them could be particularly bothered to heed towards the latest fashionable choices in clothing or felt the desire to ingratiate themselves with lavish pieces of jewelery.

In addition, her level of hygiene was another factor to consider since, even though Umbrella's lab facilities were equipped with all the basic necessities a person could possibly need in the dormitories, a majority of the staff rarely found the time to uphold their personal cleanliness or change their clothes most of the time due to the strict demands handed down through Umbrella's hierarchy and the hectic hours of work they were forced to put in, hence why all of the staff looked extremely unkempt and unclean, with their outfits covered in creases and worn in from being slept in continually. A research assistant was no exception to this problem because, due to large number of scientist employed at an of Umbrella's facilities and the multitude of projects put under development simultaneously, they were constantly demanded to be present at any given point in time to provide their service and whatever expertise they had to support either support the researchers during the initial stages of experimentation or monitor the condition of the BOWs to ensure that neither any unknown mutations occurred from the infection nor that they woke up from their sedated slumber to cause any potential hazards, which left very little time for them to maintain a suitable level of hygiene in their physical appearance or personal clothing.

But, Miss Wong still exceeded these normalities and expectations as a special case. Not only was the attire she wore, at least what he had seen already, extravagant in a simplistic way and rather fashionable in taste, but was well-cleaned and kept in reasonable condition, the fabric containing not even the tiniest crease nor speck of filth despite how long she was supposed to work in the labs and what she might be working with, giving her clothing the kind of quality that could only be found in suitable articles that were put on the rack in expensive retail stores from famous fashion designers. Furthermore, somehow, in what little breaks interspersed throughout the hectic schedules and strict demands for speedy results, she managed to find the time to apply make-up, albeit very little, that gave her appearance more pristine and accentuated her already-alluring features, decorating it to emanate an aura of perfection that belonged more on a super-model or the daughter of an aristocrat.

And her behavior only compounded his suspicions further, convincing him that she was not who she claimed to be or what the data Umbrella had on her detailed, portraying her as something else entirely. From the glimpses of emotion that had slipped through her calm composure and the discreet attempts she had made to conceal them from view, he could assume that she wasn't in this line of work for the chance to be given a place of employment in a business enterprise as enormous and globally-successful as Umbrella Inc. or to be given the privilege to conduct her own research into the miracle of modern-science that was the Tyrant-Virus, but for another reason entirely, one she was prone to keep hidden and leave no traces of her motivation open for examination by anyone near her because it was clear to assume that whatever it was didn't coincide with Umbrella's aims.

When she had been introduced to Birkin after she had handed over the report to him, Wesker had managed to catch a glimpse of the spark of interest twinkle in Ada's gaze, lighting up in recognition of the name and the reputation he held within Umbrella's R&D department, indicating she had heard of the man and was not oblivious to how important he was to the corporation, until she was able to mask it under a feigned expression of professional admiration. But, it hadn't been an interest shown in admiration at the man's achievements or in fear towards his vicious attitude that he openly displayed to everyone whom worked under him, which was the normal way the staff who knew of him regarded Birkin whenever they saw him, but she appeared to be interested in Birkin for an altogether different value, the intense curiosity and calculated recognition enough to inform she was definitely after something that Birkin knew about.

In fact, Wesker would find it surprising if he couldn't find a single person, organization or company that didn't want what Birkin knew since he indefinitely knew nearly everything about Umbrella's research into the various viral strains, the majority of almost all of their experimental ventures made from the beginning of the corporation's establishment and the large variety of BOWs they had created, and he had been either present or responsible for the development of these BOWs and viral strains when they were first commissioned for production by the Executive Board, meaning that thousands would kill just for a single speck of the vast reams of information he possessed.

Thus, it was obvious that Miss Wong, acting behind whatever motivation, reason or agenda she possessed that concerned either a segment or huge quantity of Umbrella's research data, she would attempt to retrieve this desired information via a route through Birkin; however, although Birkin was one of the key researchers under Umbrella's employment and was involved in every scientific endeavor undertaken into the corporation's biological-weaponry by the American Division, there were other methods to find and secure any selected information from the corporation without resorting to Birkin, and Ada should have access to such a method with her position as a research assistant and, more specifically, the clearance granted by the board to enter their data network.

This meant that, despite her position and the clearance it bestowed on her, she was searching for a specific piece of information about something that Umbrella owned and she didn't have access to it in her current state, forcing her to seek another method of acquiring that information altogether and it appears she had deemed Birkin to be her way to obtain that information from Umbrella in order to accomplish whatever it was she had set out to do.

Finally, there was the conversation between herself and her boyfriend that provided a more in-depth personification of who Miss Wong was and what she was capable of. There was something about the way that brief talk went between Howe and Wong that didn't sit well with Wesker's intuition, the direction that the transgression went in regards to the topic and the responses made by each of them seemed to cast another shadow of doubt over Miss Wong and her true intentions. During the entire conversation, Wesker had noticed that, despite how she effectively portrayed herself to her boyfriend and the people standing by the cell nearby who could overhear them or how the conversation could be interpreted, throughout every word that was being said, he could tell that, although she was clever and discreet to hide it, Miss Wong had been extremely with what she said and was delicately articulating each of the emotions that lay beneath every word that passed between her and John, phrasing them carefully to flow forth in a way that manipulated the conversation to her own advantage, leading it towards the outcome she predicted would be most beneficial for her, keeping control over both what she said and how John would respond to certain parts of the conversation, almost as if she had been in complete control over everything that had passed between them and coercing him to make the moves she had calculated out ahead of time, her expression and satiny voice carefully hiding away the arrogance she felt at how successful she was in probing the conversation according to her predictions, exhibiting that aura of self-confidence and practicality he had noticed before.

In conclusion, with her motives unclear and her true identity behind her role still a mystery, whatever Ada Wong sought after was still a shroud even to him, but it was obvious that she was most certainly not operating under Umbrella's orders, whatever the information and background research on her told them, indicating that she was working for altogether and was certainly very adapt in her abilities to acquire what it was she desired from the pharmaceutical corporation, marking her off as something of a professional.

_Quite an interesting turn of events. I wonder whom she is working for? The more likely possibility is probably one of Umbrella's business rivals, either in pharmaceuticals or, more likely, bio-weaponry production._

That was the only liable possibility to consider out of all the options available to describe Miss Wong's purpose behind her questionable and peculiar activities. In the current standing amongst the business and productive markets, both legal and illegal, Umbrella currently stood as the highest-ranking enterprise in the stage, due to its deep pockets, strong connections in the political functionalities of society, popularity with the global public and the level of productivity in both of their ventures, though it was not the only one operating on such prospective endeavors by far, since most of the large corporations working under the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium were in a similar manufacturing line, albeit under discretion to the public with strict information policies between employees, departments and other companies, developing cures and medications for several deadly diseases in existence across the globe whilst secretly developing methods to apply these ailments as weapons of war to sell for meager profiteering, and all of them were naturally interlocked in a rigorous competition with Umbrella's position of esteem and power in the world, seeking to topple the dark monolith it had grown into, forcing them to resort to take extreme measures to secure anything to acquire an edge over their competitors, making a professional like Miss Wong a valuable resource to use for such purposes.

However, he soon pushed out all thoughts on Miss Wong from his mind when he heard the doors at the top of the stairs creak open again, the screech of rusty metal squealing loudly in the dank corridor, followed by the thunderous crash by the door slamming shut and the sounds of many sets of footsteps rushing down the stairs, the thick thump of boots on the concrete announcing the arrival of several security guards sent by the Security Chief to assist with the disposal, on par with Wesker and Birkin's orders.

The guards soon appeared from around the corner, half a dozen men dressed in the standard dark blue shirt and combat trousers with a Kevlar vest strapped across their chest, four of them carrying MP5 submachine guns and the other two carrying the Spark Shot Rifle, hefting the weapon comfortably in their gloved hands as white sparks flickered dangerously across the double-arced barrel, the battery at the back emitting a low, deadly hum of pure energy.

One of the guards, a balding African-American man with a scar running from the left corner of his lip to his chin, the grim display of injury reminding Wesker briefly of Sergei Vladimir slitting the epidermal layer with his coveted blade, tasting the blood as it trickled down his face, walked up to Wesker and snapped a salute.

"Sir. Assistant Researcher Ada Wong commissioned us to report here on your orders to commence with disposal operations," the man said briskly.

Wesker nodded. "Are your men prepared?"

The man hefted his weapon comfortably in his hands, balancing it on his shoulder. "Yes sir. My men and I are equipped with Anti-BOW rounds to render her incapacitated if she resists, and we have been commissioned the Spark Shot rifles to use in the extremest of circumstances. We are more then ready for anything that thing can throw at us," he proclaimed arrogantly.

_Lets hope that is more than the bag of hot air it whistles itself to be._

"Are the research staff upstairs prepared?" he asked, straightening his sunglasses.

The man nodded. "Yes sir. They are receiving the vital sign data from the specimen and are currently monitoring it, upon your orders for disposal."

"Alright," Wesker said, stepping away from the wall. "You men, stay behind us and keep watch over the specimen whilst Dr Birkin and I take care of her. Keep weapons ready and if she attempts to make an escape, fire at will. Aim for the vital areas and ensure she doesn't get close enough to attack you."

The guards nodded and walked up to the door, spreading out into a semi-circle formation, weapons raised and focused at the door.

Wesker turned to the guards standing beside the door frame. "The same goes for you. Until Dr Birkin and I eliminate the specimen and the staff confirms her vital signs are flat-lined, you keep constant observation for any hostile behavior and fire at will if she manages to break free," he ordered sternly.

The guards, relieved by the increased presence of further security members and the use of high-grade Anti-BOW weaponry on site in case of she reacted hostile towards them, nodded firmly in response, the immense relief on their faces easy to see.

"Open the door," Birkin demanded, stepping up besides Wesker.

Two of the guards reached into their pockets and pulled out two identical ID cards, the red-and-white Umbrella logo printed on one side of the thin laminate plastic, and swiped them both through the lock on the door; the two lights changed from red to green with a high-pitched whistle and the lock snapped open with a metallic thunk. Three of the guards stepped back from the door and joined the formation with the other detachment of armed guards, raising their weapons towards the door and eyes staring sharply ahead as the last guard clasped hold of the handle nervously and slowly pushed the door open.

"Are you alright with this, William?" Wesker asked in a low voice.

Birkin nodded grimly, swallowing down the hard lump in his throat. "Yes. Despite my personal feelings on the matter, Spencer and the board are calling the shots on this one, so I don't have much of a choice, do I?" he said, the sarcasm dripping bitterly in his tone of voice.

The door slowly swung open, revealing the small, shabby room and the deformed woman slumped against the wall by her ancient bed, and Wesker and Birkin stepped inside the room slowly, several of the guards following them and taking positions behind them whilst the others waited outside, all their weapons directed at Lisa where she slept on the floor, her chest rising and falling with each raspy breath that passed from behind her torn lips hidden within the flesh-masks enshrouding her head, her eyes closed and downcast to the floors, her chains rattling slightly with each soft stir she made in her sleep.

Rummaging through one of his trouser pockets, Wesker pulled out a small floppy disk and held it out towards Birkin standing next to him, his eyes fixed on Lisa. "Take this and download the data from the terminal for the report we will need to send to the board. Once you've done that, keep an eye on the systems installed on the terminal and watch over her infection levels to ensure your little concoction doesn't cause more trouble spontaneously for us," he ordered.

Birkin took the disk with one shaky hand and nodded nervously to Wesker, glancing back at Lisa, watching her carefully as he moved towards the terminal seated on top of the desk by her bed, walking as quietly and slowly as possible to ensure he didn't cause anything that might wake her up. Once he reached the computer, Birkin slid the disk into the hard-drive and started downloading the files onto the disk, the screen lighting up to show a small silver box in the middle of a black screen with a bar inside it filling quickly with a blue light trail. The process took about five minutes and, when it was finished, Birkin removed the disk, sticking it in his pocket for safe-keeping and guided the mouse pointer across the screen, double-clicking on a folder that Wesker couldn't see from where he stood and watching as several new boxes appeared on-screen, revealing several charts and lines that ran along a single line, interspersed with bumps, peaks, dips and gorges representing each action taken by Lisa's still-intact organs.

Satisfied that Birkin had everything ready with his part of the procedure, Wesker glanced over his shoulder back to the guards who stood silently in a tight formation around him and the cell, regarding all of them with a hard stare as they stood firmly in their places behind him, their weapons raised and aimed towards the still-slumbering woman, their eyes focused and alert for any sign of movement yet their faces were pale, whitened by fear and nausea that reflected on their anxious expressions, their hands gripping tightly to their rifles with a feeble sense of comfort and security. Some of them even began tremble slightly as the seconds passed by and the tension pressed further on him with its burdensome weight, making Wesker wander whether or not these men were actually prepared to step in should the need arise.

"Stay alert," he stated brusquely. "Watch her carefully but don't hesitate to fire if she becomes violent. And keep your distance."

"Sir, will you need a fire-arm? For safety and protection if she tries to attack you?" the security chief asked, reaching down to his holster to pull free the pistol that sat there.

"No," Wesker replied bluntly, pulling out his Beretta M92F from its holster and looking it over carefully, inspecting it carefully for potential blockages or signs of disrepair, before he pulled out a fresh clip from his Kevlar vest pocket and slapped it in place, deactivating the safety with a dry click and pulling back on the barrel to loud a round in the chamber, the sharp mechanical noises cracking in the hollow passage and resonating in loud echoes through the entire tunnel before gradually fading away into silence, only broken by the raspy snoring from Lisa, the shaky breaths the guards took to remain calm despite their growing apprehension and the incessant tiny drops of water that broke out on the surface of puddles beneath them on the concrete floor.

As the room grew quiet and the echoes from outside dissipated altogether, with another low moan followed by more rattling of chains, Lisa slowly raised her head to regard him with her dead eyes, the dark insanity and murderous rage glowering at him through the gaps in the grotesquely rotting masks of agony and pain she wore. Wesker took two slow steps forward, keeping his gun level at his side and expression composed when, deep inside his conscience, he felt uneasy with fear and concern at the young woman whom he had known for the best part of twenty years, his eyes fixed on Lisa's 'face', his eyes cold as he stared back at enraged glare through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

As Wesker came closer and came to a stop in front of her, Lisa hissed angrily at him, her blackened teeth clenched and spitting bloody drool from between her bleeding gums and cracked lips, her eyes fixed on him with enraged primal madness and bloodlust, the hiss slowly turning into a growl as she clenched her cut and dirty hands into fists-

-then suddenly snapped them up in an attempt to strike him with her manacled-hands, lashing out towards his face-

-but the chains rattled and snapped in response to her movement, emitting a wet, sloppy sound as they yanked harshly on her hands, ripping away more skin from her scarred and cut wrists, the rusty-brown restraints holding strong against her as she struggled to raise her hands in an effort to attack him.

Whilst the guards shouted for him to move out the way for them to get a clear shot at her and Birkin stumbled away from the computer, nearly tripping over his own feet in his attempts to put more distance between himself and the infected woman, Wesker merely regarded her with a cold and impassive as she tired herself out from her frenzied struggle against her restraints, her feeble attempts to get free slowly growing shorter and less desperate until she let her hands drop into her lap with a rattle from the chains, glaring daggers at him again from behind her masks.

After she had stopped struggling, time effectively ground to a halt and went by in what seemed to be hours as he raised his gun and pointed it at her forehead, his thumb pulling back on the hammer and his finger resting on the trigger, ready to pull it upon a simple muscle contraction.

She moaned again and let out an awesome screech that rang throughout the entire floor like a banshee's haunting cry, the tone so high-pitched that it rang harshly in his ears and made his head throb painfully, causing him to lower his weapon and clasp his free hand over his ears in an attempt to block out the noise. She continued to screech at them in that terrible high-pitch noise, crying out in defiance to who had been her captors for over thirty years of her life, her screaming ringing painfully in both the tunnel and their ears for several seconds until she abruptly stopped, the cry falling silent instantly as Lisa lowered her head to gaze at the floor, taking in deep horse breaths that scraped down her throat, choked on blood and gunk stuck in her windpipe, and she once again started to struggle futilely against her restraints, smacking them against the floor to try and break them apart for her to get her hands free.

When she had finally stopped struggling and let her hands fall down in defeat again, Wesker raised his weapon again and pointed the muzzle towards her head, taking careful as she raised her head up to glare at him again with her insane, dead eyes that glowered with infinite primal fury towards him. In that short, split passage of time that passed between them before Wesker could commit the final act to end Lisa's long-suffering captivity within the estate of Umbrella's last remaining founder and current CEO, he swore that he saw a flicker of some unknown human emotion, a single oasis of human consciousness in that endless desert of primal madness, pass through her gaze to him, almost like a silent message passed privately between acquaintances and it vanished before he could fully register its meaning.

Was it gratitude to end her torment? Sadness at what she had become and how it would end? Or was it a simple acknowledgement and acceptance of one's ultimate fate?

When he saw that sign of human emotion in her gaze, Wesker hesitated and felt a surge of deep pity towards the young woman. She had only been what must have been 14 years old when she had been abducted and brought down into the laboratories to become the first-ever human Progenitor test-subject, barely beginning her journey into the natural cycle of adulthood instead to be confined deep within Umbrella's secret facilities to endure the horrific ordeals of experimentation, captivity and torture at the hands of the eager scientists desperately desiring to further examine their new biological weapon in new settings. If things had transpired differently and the events of her life hadn't gone off in the direction it had earlier in her childhood, she may have been able to have a normal life, to get married, raise a family of her own and live out her life in open sunlight, surrounded by friends, family and loved ones.

However, she was instead forced to live out her life confined in a dark chamber, surrounded only by men of science and corporate desires whom only used her as a guinea pig for the various forms of the deadly virus they had developed for their own ends, reduced to nothing more than a hollow shadow of herself, a remnant of the child that her died decades ago, infected with so much different variants and a multitude of diseases that she could barely be described as anything remotely human, broken, hunched, mutated and miserable, locked away from all forms of life outside, confined to a life of perpetual anguish, pain and decadence. Although now, with her role in Umbrella's research fulfilled and her usefulness far gone for her to be considered of any value to their secret activities, it had been decided that it would all come to an end.

Right here and now, by his hand.

_The end has come. It's time for you to rest._

With that cold and precise statement in his mind, Wesker regained his professional composure and focused back on the current matter he was faced with, pushing aside all of his wandering thoughts towards the endless possibilities on what could have been Lisa's life without the dark looming shadow of demonic power that was Spencer and Umbrella, Wesker fulfilled his orders. Whether or not his conscience deemed it necessary to absolve himself of some of the righteous guilt he deserved for his part in this and consider on who Lisa really was, despite everything that had happened, he didn't have the time to indulge such a notion. Besides, even if there was a shred of human thought in her afflicted and shattered mind, the thing she desired, the only thing anyone could ever wish for in such a situation, was the peace of death.

Steadying his hand and holding the gun firm in his grip, his face devoid of all emotion and fixed on the young woman in front of him, Wesker fulfilled his orders.

His finger flexed three times on the trigger.

Three simple pulls of a small lever on a weapon.

Three insignificant acts of muscle contraction in a small part of his anatomy.

Three sharp cracks of gunfire that signaled the end of it all.

Lisa jumped each time the bullets punched through her head, the fresh holes made in her masks giving off a faint trail of smoke from the heat of gunpowder on the cartridge and purple coagulated blood flowed through the holes to slowly run down the rotting skin, melding into the cracks and scars that peeled away from the macabre decorations over her complexion, several small droplets left unhindered falling off her malformed chin and landing with soft plops on the collar of her gown, the bright violet color merging with the already-tattered, filth-stained and ancient fabric, becoming unrecognizable amongst the accumulation of different-colored stains dried on the article of clothing.

When the last bullet punched into her brain with the wet crack as it hit bone, her body snapped back from the impact and crashed against the wall lifelessly, sagging down into a sitting position with her hands sitting in her lap and legs spread apart, giving her the appearance of a doll that a child had thrown aside and left abandoned in a basement for years on end. Her chest remained still and her voice stayed silent, no sound or breath passing from her throat, her dead eyes now vacant and blank, devoid of all signs of life or small innate thought, staring up at him with a hollow emptiness, though Wesker couldn't help but feel that either accusation or peace flickered for the last few glimpses she had of life, and she slowly slumped to the side, dragging against the wall with her weight pulling her down until she settled on the floor with a soft thud, dead.

When the sharp cracks of gunfire that echoed throughout the dank and moldy cell area, a grim repetition to the terrible act that had been committed just mere seconds ago, the immensely loud bangs ringing over and over again as if to purposefully grate against the emotions of the men whom remained in the mansion's prison blocks, reminding them incessantly and accusingly of their over-all guilt which lay heavily on their shoulders, no matter how might they reason against it or sling excuses toward it, the terminal unleashed an incredibly whining shriek of mechanical technology and computer programming, indicating that Lisa's vital signs had finally came to a stop altogether, almost imitating the exact same tone Lisa's own screams of anguish and fury roared throughout the facility in bloodlust towards her potential murderers. What came in its place was a sinister and oppressive silence that weighed furthermore onto their strained sanities and mental states, enveloping them in a choking aura which seemed to encase their entire bodies in what felt like cold iron chains, indestructible and extremely tight around them that it threatened to squeeze the lives out of them for what they had done as they stared blankly at Lisa's broken form, their faces and gazes hollow like her eyes, weapons held tightly in numb hands, still pointed towards the woman lying in a pool of her own blood, not a single word passing from their mouths nor a simple twitch sparking in any part of their anatomies to shift from where they stood rigidly in position.

This was how it remained for several fleeting seconds until Birkin, his face ashen and plastered with an extremely nauseous expression, his eyes wide and drowned in abstract horror, his hands trembling spasmodically and his head slowly shaking side-to-side in denial to what had happened, let out a miserable groan and dashed out from the cell, shoving aside the guards in his haste to vacate the room, to flee from the dead woman whom he had a part in her cold murder and put a physical barrier between himself and her in a way to block out what had just happened, to hopelessly deny what he just witnessed and that he had been a part of it.

Wesker didn't glance up at Birkin when he let out that sickened and distraught groan nor did he watch him flee from the cell in disgust, his gaze frozen in place on one of Lisa's rotten face-masks, his eyes (gracefully hidden behind the sunglasses he wore) filled with remorse and guilt directed at her, silently conveying an apology and a message that she would finally be at rest. Lowering his weapon and placing it back in his holster, Wesker quietened the intensity of the dozens of thoughts and emotions running through his mind, despite how difficult it was to ignore them and how hard they pounded throughout his head, maintaining his professional composure as he turned towards the cell door, walking up to the Security Chief where he stood outside watching Lisa carefully, his weapon not raised to aim at the woman but not lowered down to his side either.

"Inform the research staff stationed upstairs to commence with the necessary disposal procedures," Wesker ordered, pushing past them and heading towards to find Birkin.

"Alright, men. You heard Mr Wesker. Time to clean up this mess," the Security Chief said, his boisterous resonating clearly through the corridor. "I want three of you to head upstairs and check to see if the science guys have confirmed the specimen's life-signs have indeed been terminated, and to report back to me. In the meantime, stay alert and keep your eyes on her; I don't trust whatever she is infected with to keep her incapacitated and I certainly don't want her trying to bite my neck for some warm meal."

Behind him, the guards ushered a chorus of "Yessir!" to their CO and three pairs of footsteps thumped down the hallway at a steady pace, three guards jogging past him and disappearing around the corner to head up the stairs, their footsteps growing quieter as they went up the steps quickly, fading away into silence which was followed shortly by the creaking hinges of the door opening and the thunderous slam it made when it swung closed behind them.

Wesker paid no heed to the orders being issued behind him nor did he particularly cast a passing glance to the guards that went by him on their way to speak with the research staff upstairs, his ears failing to register the various sounds reverberating of the walls around him or the voices speaking behind him, and he turned around the corner, taking the steps up two at a time and quickly passing through the door at the top, ignoring the polite nods he received from the scientists he walked by, strolling through the halls in search of Birkin. However, deep within his subconscious, Wesker's mind riled with split attention and blurred focus to sort through the mass fluctuation of thoughts and emotions that bounded painfully through his skull and maintaining his professional composure, to let the emotions arise onto his face to plainly show how much turmoil the recent events had put him in. In an attempt to ensure his feelings didn't get the better of him and to harden his focus onto something more practical than his confounding thoughts which conflicted with his frantic emotions, he began to force his mind to think about the professional aspects of the current matter and what the next steps were to be taken in regards to Spencer's orders on the matter of Lisa's termination and disposal.

Over the course of the next three days, upon the orders Wesker had given them, the Arklay research staff would regularly monitor and record any signs of vital organ activity in Lisa to confirm that all of her bodily functions had terminated, in addition to the numerous blood tests, physical examinations and isolated observations they were to perform in order to determine that the viral strains she was infected with would not cause any spontaneous mutational effects to her form or that their regenerative properties would not activate and produce enough energy to restore her anatomical systems to a sufficient point for her to be able to regain consciousness; considering the nature of their illegal research and its destructive abilities, everyone was well aware that a factor such as death, even though it was to be an ultimate decider for any given topic and organism, did not apply to anything associated remotely with the T-Virus, and with something as volatile and incessant as Birkin's new G-Virus, one had to be absolutely certain that neither of the given possibilities were given the chance to occur.

Once her death was confirmed and all the tests showed positive results and irrefutable evidence that there was no danger of a liability that the viral strains were inactive after her life-signs were confirmed to have arbitrarily terminated by Wesker's gunshots and that any liable chances of an infection were rendered ineffective, a full report would be sent to Spencer and the board for analysis and transportation would be prepared to deliver her body to either the Treatment Plant by the old Arklay Training Facility where Marcus had worked or to the new disposal site constructed at the edge of the woodland by Victoria Park in Raccoon City, nestled by one of the small mountain trails that followed one of the main rivers running through the town. As soon as she arrived at one of these selected areas, the staff would naturally take over matters from there and begin the stages of proper disposal, starting by placing her into the incinerator for cremation to kill off all the viruses within her system and to ensure their regenerative properties would not be able to restore enough her vital functions for her to make a partial recovery, and finally immersed in a vat of highly-acidic formulas to fully dissolve all organic materials left behind from the first stages of disposal, ensuring that all traces of her infection was eradicated, leaving only for the water in the vats to be drained and filtered for re-use at a later date.

However, should Spencer and the board decide to postpone the transportation to focus the facility's efforts towards continuing their research on the T-Virus and continued production of the BHN hormone to supply the Sheena Tyrant Production Facilities, or that the disposal facilities were unable to accommodate her at the present moment in time, due to the severe amount of failed test-subjects and specimens they were required to dispose of from all of the facilities stationed around the small suburban city, the large requirements of technology and equipment needed to effectively manage and carry out all the necessary processes, and the small number of staff, in addition to the maintenance department and security division, the security staff assigned to the Arklay Laboratories were obligated to transport her to an isolated location and place her under quarantine until further notice, the location of which would be deemed highly-classified and knowledge of specified storage area would only be granted to the Laboratory Manager, including the Executive Board and the Head Researcher.

Either way, sooner or later, Lisa and what was left of her, was to be thrown away and forgotten, dumped into what was essentially a giant cess-pit of human corpses and decay, slowly melting away into the acidic contents of what materials and chemicals the facility's staff used to clean away all the traces of the viruses she was afflicted with and to end up as either small particles merged with murky, polluted water that would be filtered out by the drainage systems installed at the site or as a mangled, broken pile of bones that would be dumped in a body-bag and slammed in a containment locker somewhere within the facility's lower levels, never to see again, never to face the outside world, never to be remembered by anyone else and to be forgotten by the sands of time, lost away in the dark eternity of obscurity, the thought of her existence considered by no one except for those in Umbrella's employment, specifically those higher up in the hierarchy who were aware of her role in their ambitious and greedy desires for power, and those whom had spent most of the careers living in abstract fear of her as they watched over her during her imprisonment.

Although, that too, was only be temporary. As the times passed onwards and their research grew ever forward in development, unveiling new ideas, new ventures, new discoveries and new prospects for them to explore, eventually the memory of Lisa would vanish from the halls of their minds, overshadowed by the scientific excitement and obsessional behavior over the T-Virus research and the massive amounts of potential it presented to their eager young minds, luring their prodigal intellects deep into the vast and deranged shadows of Umbrella's darker nature, leaving Lisa behind as nothing more than a figment of the past to fall from thought and memory altogether in place of the endless possibilities Umbrella's researchers envisioned with what was placed in their laps. After all, to everyone under Umbrella's employment, Lisa was nothing more than a test subject to be used and thrown away, one that had, despite the amount of countless experiments and research they had conducted on her, reached the end of her usefulness to their work and was to be cast off like a used tissue, insignificant and pointless in the grand scheme of things.

Nothing at all special.

_But that's not true, is it, Miss Elizabeth Trevor? Both Spencer and I know exactly how 'special' you truly are._

He had stumbled onto this interesting piece of information by accident during one of his searches into Spencer through the computer network when he decided that it was worth checking into the Umbrella Archives for any hint of what the CEO's true motives might be, using his updated level of clearance and his position within the Monitor Organization to access every piece of corporate information that was stored in the Archives and browse through all of the company records, research data and experimental results stored in the Archives for anything that held a link, no matter how minuscule or insignificant it may appear, to Spencer and whatever activities he had undertaken during the history of Umbrella's business enterprise. At first, Wesker attempted to perform a background check into Spencer's position in Umbrella's hierarchy and determine if there was anything lying amongst his affiliations with the Executive Board members or the higher-ranking employees that held anything of interest to him but it had turned up no results as of yet, so he switched ventures and started a thorough examination into the earlier records listed in the network that dated back to when the corporation was first established in the sixties, skimming across essentially everything that Spencer, Marcus and Ashford had uploaded into the network for use by the corporation, including all business interactions, board meetings, research data on the Progenitor virus and the specimens used in the experiments into the strain.

And it was amongst the Progenitor research data, when he had uncovered a link that connected Spencer's interactions with the Trevor family, whom had supposedly vanished of the face of the world shortly after George Trevor completed the construction of the Estate in the Arklay Mountains for Spencer, and the earlier developments into the experiments conducted with the Progenitor virus, where he learned of Lisa's true, or rather former, identity and the large part she had played in the vast distorting threads and ever-twisting paths of Umbrella's shadow craftsmanship. Elizabeth Trevor, only child of George and Jessica Trevor, had apparently been abducted along with her mother by Spencer and the Arklay security teams during their stay in the estate at the invitation of its owner, and was detained at the laboratories hidden beneath the catacombs for the staff to conduct their research into determining the effects that the Progenitor had on human hosts. According to the data supplied on the tests, the results obtained showed that, although Jessica had yielded no notable reaction to the virus apart from minor first-stage symptoms, Elizabeth had demonstrated viral activity within her cellular structure and preliminary examinations uncovered that she was suffering from a second-stage infection, indicating that she was having a reaction to the virus' presence. In conjuncture with these findings, Spencer decided that a behaviour observation was deemed necessary to study how much of an overall effect the Progenitor infection was having to her and ordered for her to be placed in close proximity with her mother to observe her behavior to both Jessica and the Progenitor. The experiment was canceled and all research into the studies were halted because, although they had managed to observe some changes to her behaviour towards her biological mother and record data on the progress of infection in her body, she had managed to escape from the laboratories and went on a rampage out in the woods, assaulting and killing several staff members by ripping their faces off, lurking around in the small desolate cabin outside in the woods until Sergei Vladimir, under Spencer's orders, brought her back to the facility, where upon it was decided she be sealed away in one of the cells and placed under close monitoring as the Progenitor research progressed, using her only as a test subject to the numerous variants of the Progenitor that were developed later on, morphing her into the hideous monstrosity that Wesker and Birkin first saw when they visited her on their arrival at Arklay.

Naturally, discovering the truth behind Lisa and all of the research data concerning her had come as a slight surprise to Wesker, particularly to discover that the creature they had worked on for the better part of two decades with their own research ventures into Umbrella's BOW development, the mentally shattered and physically mauled woman they had incessantly tortured in their hectic pace and rigid desires for new results was actually the daughter of the fabled architect known all across the US for his revolutionary designs of several skyscrapers in New York City, that such a small child whom had been missing for several years and practically forgotten about by the rest of the world was locked up deep within Umbrella's secret R&D facilities to be used as a guinea pig in research that defied the laws of reality itself.

However, after some deliberation and forethought on the subject, Wesker had to concede that the truth behind what had happened to the Trevor family thirty years ago wasn't really that unusual or considered to be a disturbing revelation in his professional opinion because, due to his fame and highly-respected reputation amongst New York's bustling community, Spencer had opted to hire George Trevor for his expertise and assistance in both designing the large and extravagant estate that now nestled deep within the sea of trees and forest life encircling Raccoon City, and supervising the construction operation to ensure that the mansion was built exactly to Spencer's standards, including the hidden death traps and sinister security measures that were disguised about the mansion's many halls to ward off potential intruders.

In conclusion, upon completion of the mansion and the vast intricacies of mechanisms contained within, only Oswell E. Spencer and George Trevor were the ones who knew the exact layout of the mansion and had prior knowledge of the many booby-traps that were hidden in the multitude of rooms, thus ensuring that all information concerning the design of the mansion and its 'features' were kept at a strict policy of confidence between the two of them, but Spencer was not an idiot since he realized the possibility that, should George Trevor be approached by any of Umbrella's competitors concerning information regarding anything that resolved around the layout of the Arklay Estate, then he presented a viable security risk to the integrity of the installation, meaning that measures had to be taken to keep the information from getting out.

Additionally, despite the advanced facility built beneath the estate and the suitable amount of staff assigned to the laboratories, Spencer was also aware of the fact that their research into the Progenitor would not make any satisfactory progress without any specimens for them to use as a subject to experiment with the virus and determine its effects on living organisms, thus he was required to obtain some specimens that the staff could use in their experiments; however, with very limited power, money and resources available to him at the time, Spencer was inclined to take whatever he could at face-value, hence why he decided to invite the Trevor family to attend a banquet in honor of the estate's completion and to spend the night in luxury at his new home, effectively killing two birds with one stone with the elimination of George Trevor by the very same defense systems he had designed in order to test their efficiency in protecting the estate from any intruders and abducting his family to be used as the first human specimens for Umbrella's BOW research and development with the Progenitor virus without the need to actively search and capture specimens to use, which would arouse suspicion on his part and attract the eyes of the law to his activities.

_I believe some credit is in order, Spencer. You're not as totally ignorant of the implications on what we do here as I thought you were._

It didn't take much time to find where Birkin had run off to. After searching all of the rooms on Level B3, excluding the power room since all research was prohibited from entering unless in an emergency situation, to prevent any accidents involving the powerful generators and volatile fuel-supply used to run the vast electrical workings installed in the mansion, and finding no trace of him on Level B2, Wesker went back upstairs to Level B1 and found his colleague standing by the large bulkhead doors to the heliport access corridor, looking as if he was about to evacuate his stomach contents onto the floor. Birkin's face was ashen, the skin of his cheeks turning stark white and glistening with a cold sweat, his sandy blond hair wild and unkempt, several strands sticking out in all directions making it his head looked like a bird had nested there recently, his eyes wide and bulging out of his head as they stared down at the floor, the crippling terror and nausea seeming to glow behind his ghostly complexion in a sickly green color, a flurry of compounding emotions swam in his wide blue eyes, some of them registering as to what looked like an immense tide of guilt and frustration. He was hunched over with his hands on his knees, the fabric of his jeans clutched tightly between his paper-thin fingers and his knuckles were as white as his face, the frantic trembling in them hard to ignore or miss, and he took in quick shallow breaths, the whistling sound he made with each breath of air he took in enough to tell his teeth were clenched.

"Are you alright, William?" Wesker asked, approaching his friend slowly, keeping his tone neutral so as not to aggravate him further, which would be very unwise in his current state.

Birkin jumped at the sound of Wesker's voice and snapped his head behind him to stare at him, his brow furrowed deeply enough to see the lines break out across his forehead but his eyes still wide as saucers and his breath hissing through his clenched teeth, focusing intently on Wesker. Deep within the unsettled gaze in Birkin's eyes, Wesker noticed a faint glimmer of conflicting emotions spark behind the dark shroud of fear enveloping them; in the brief fleeting seconds when the emotions appeared and vanished just as quickly, Wesker saw a cross between a tide of guilt and a sharp harsh flame of accusation pent up behind the bright blue color, almost as if Birkin was fighting with the horrid truth that he was a part of the murder that he had been a witness to, yet he still attempted to shirk the blame off on someone else, to accuse them of ultimately being the one responsible and absolving him of the guilt that seemed to be choking him. "I'm fine," he replied bluntly, turning his head away and looking back down to the floor.

Wesker stepped closer to Birkin, keeping his hands at his sides.

"I said I'm fine, dammit!" Birkin exclaimed angrily, lashing a hand out to keep Wesker from coming closer, a bright red flush growing on his cheeks, the crimson hue a sharp contrast to the pale skin and sickly green tone hidden behind his weary face. "I...I just need...I just need a breather. That's all. It's nothing to be worried about."

Wesker stood in place, ignoring the hand Birkin swung through the air in front of him to keep him from coming closer, and folded his arms across his chest, regarding him with a stoic expression. "It had to be done this way, William. She was becoming too violent to keep locked up and she wasn't of any use to our research, like you said beforehand," he stated, leaning against the large elevator generator and winch-system behind him.

"I am aware of that, Albert," Birkin retorted, the sarcasm underlying bitterly in his tone. "Besides, Spencer and the board were the ones who wanted to be disposed of in the first place, despite my own personal opinions on the matter, and we were called in to supervise since we are some of the few whom have paid any attention to her for these last few years. However, trying to reason logic with it didn't make what we had to do any easier, huh?"

Wesker felt that he could empathize with the way Birkin was acting to the events only moments ago since, although he kept his emotions in check and managed to remain calm throughout the whole ordeal, it had left him pretty shaken up and unsettled when he had bared those final moments of interaction between himself and Lisa, and when he had pulled the trigger to cut the fragile thread that kept her alive even through all those years of insurmountable torture. Even now, his emotions continued to swirl around within the dark confines of his mind, resonating deep inside his consciousness and behind the aura of calm professionalism he displayed to the world, his heart pounding forcefully in his chest, pumping harder and harder with the surge of adrenaline that had yet to disperse from his veins, underneath his shirt, Wesker could the cool trails of sweat running down his back.

Wesker considered saying something else to his old friend in order to help calm him down and alleviate the rushing torrent of emotions that surged through him, to offer some form of phrasing that explained there was no need to think about it anymore and that it was all over for good, but he found words were wrong-placed to be uttered here because there was nothing he could think of that might be a source of relief to his colleague since, due to his new position within Umbrella's R&D functionalities, his transferral to an alternative research facility to conduct his research into the new G-Virus Project and the fact that he was provided with little information as to his demanded presence at the Arklay Labs on this particular day, he was clearly overworked and seemed to be quite fatigued from a lack of sleep, possibly from spending long hours slaving away in his personal lab working on the G-Virus as he usually did during his work or when investigating something of interest to him, and had not been prepared for what he was required to do upon his arrival at Arklay, so he was naturally distraught and suffering from a burdensome conscience to Lisa's death, and Wesker doubted that saying anything to him would help as there was nothing even remotely available for him to provide any source of relief to the scientist.

So instead, Wesker remained silent and simply nodded at his old friend, passing him a small gesture of appreciation in his gaze as if to say 'Thank you' for his assistance with Lisa, considering that Birkin was possibly the only one could understand how troubling Lisa was to him and that he would have preferred to have helping him with their orders rather than someone estranged to the decrepit woman that now lay dead in her cell, resolved to just lean against the grilled-fence that ran around the elevator system and patiently wait for Birkin to calm down, listening to his friends shallow and rapid breathing that gradually slowed down and grew deeper, his hands relaxing on his jeans and the emotions playing through his eyes slowly fade away, brought back under control as Birkin put on the cold, rigidly-focused persona he was known for.

After a few seconds of deep breathing and hushed silence between them, Birkin stood up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, smoothing down the strands that stuck out in angles and brushing away some of the bangs hanging in front of his face, his eyes adopting a cold, harsh stare and the color slowly returned to his face. "Well then. I suppose that everything is in order here," he said, sorting out his tie and smoothing down the creases on his lab coat.

Wesker nodded and turned away from his colleague, heading towards the fountain elevator. "Dr Howe and his staff will take care of the disposal from here," he said, glancing back over his shoulder at his friend, stopping at the corner by the winch system that led to the mechanical gates opening onto the small lift. "Once they have sent you confirmation of her death in the next three days or so, you will need to write up a full-report on the procedure and send it to the board for evaluation. And you also have to examine the Arklay's new Neptune Project and decide whether you should send it to the board or not. Otherwise, you are free to leave here and do as you wish."

"And what about you?" Birkin inquired, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Wesker pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch. "My presence back at the Information Department is not yet required until later today, so I will take care of some matters that require my attention whilst I am here." He then flashed Birkin a small smile. "Give my regards to Annette and Sherry. It was good to see you again, William, despite the circumstances."

And with that, Wesker walked around the corner and headed to the lift, stepping onto the small platform as soon as the doors slid open on their rails and pressing the button to head up to the ground, the lift starting with a loud rattle of gears and machinery as the gates slammed shut and the winch system clanked with the release of locks on the thick metallic cable attached to the roof, before it slowly ascended the narrow stony shaft with a soft hum.

As the lift rose up to the top of the shaft hidden beneath the fountain, Wesker took in a series of deep breaths to calm down the unsettled state his mind was in, part of his subconscious still in shock over Lisa's death, the intense flurry of emotions and thoughts resonating in his mind as the memories of Lisa continued to flow past in a series of flickering images, as if someone was playing a cassette in fast-forward, a slight headache coming on as his mind strained to slow down the visions that ran by in an obscure blur. And despite the fact that he had completed his part of the assignment Spencer had handed him and was no longer required to be anywhere near Lisa during her disposal, part of his body was still in a state to defend himself in case something tried to leap out at him, his instincts on high-alert for signs of danger, his senses fiercely attuned to detect anything that may indicate a nearby threat, high levels of adrenaline burning through his veins like fire, his muscles tense and reflexes poised to make the move that could decide the split-second between life and death, his heart pounding forcefully against his chest and a thin layer of cold, sticky sweat coating his forehead.

However, with each new breath that he took and the cooling sensation that was brought on by the sweet intake of fresh air outside of the clinical, sterile air inside the laboratories, Wesker felt his heartbeat falling to a more comfortable pace, the hot temperature of his blood drop with every molecule of oxygen the hemoglobin took in like applying ice to a warm drink, the tension in his muscles loosening its hold as the surge of adrenaline slowly disperse in his veins and his instincts fell silent within his mind, and his mind fill with a welcome sense of relief, the images that blurred past through his mind and caused him some disorientation gradually came to a stop, the outcries and echoes of his emotions fading away into the recesses of his subconscious as a single thought flashed into his mind, providing him with a comforting realization, a single silver line of sunlight breaking through the dark and thunderous storm of frantic thoughts that crashed against the shaking professional composure, that this was the last time he would ever see Lisa again, that the visage of her many faces would haunt no more and that all connections she had to him were severed between them.

_Are you certain? She has a far deeper connection to you than you are aware of. After all, where would you be if she were not here in the first place?_

Although Wesker was loathed to admit it and ignore the thought entirely, he couldn't help but notice that the tiny insignificant whisper he heard from within the dark corners of his conscience did ring with a certain note of truth since he was already well aware that Lisa WAS indeed a rather 'special' aspect of Umbrella's history and research, in more ways than the simple points he already knew of from his investigations. When Wesker and Birkin had first arrived at the Arklay Laboratories after their promotion to the positions of Head Researcher to commence their own research into the T-Virus Marcus had developed, and Spencer had introduced them to Lisa for the first time, Wesker knew that, from the very split-second he and Birkin locked eyes on the woman, heard all that Spencer knew about her and registered the dark torrent of emotions swarming through the black, hollow eyes leering at them from behind the faces of Lisa's unfortunate victims, Wesker felt something click in the very depths of his soul, some tiny unknown switch that was linked to the array of biochemical circuitry within his physical anatomy flipping to a new direction, noticing that something about him had changed upon that day, as it must have done with Birkin, but he discounted the notion as an affect of shock caused by Lisa, and undoubtedly the total bleak emptiness in Spencer's gaze as he smirked at her in that condescending way of his, focusing instead on the T-Virus research they were now in charge of, Lisa herself used as a simple test specimen and considered to be nothing more or less, by him, Birkin and the rest of the Arklay staff.

However, when new of Alexia Ashford's promotion to Head Researcher of the Antarctic Facility reached the ears of the Arklay staff, sparking the rumors about her inherited expertise from the Ashford family, whom were of high note within Umbrella's hierarchy, despite her tender age at the time of her promotion, and Birkin's behaviour became detrimental to the efficiency of the Arklay Laboratories due to his extreme spouts of jealously and his hectic work-pace that cost them a lot of specimens, BOWs, materials and equipment, Lisa was subjected towards a large extent of Birkin's rash and excessive research endeavors, enduring countless experiments and torture whilst the entire facility collapsed under Birkin's excessive research endeavors and erratic behavior, bestowing on her the title 'Immortal' by the security and scientists assigned to monitor her condition during her confinement, due to her unknown and astute to survive all the torture inflicted on her as Arklay went to Hell.

Eventually, upon the report of Alexia Ashford's death, the discovery of the Beta Hetero Nonserotonin Hormone and the decision by the board to conduct studies in determining the use of the hormone for their BOW production, leading to what was known as the Tyrant Project, Lisa was deemed to be a total failure as they were unable to retrieve any useful data or information out of her that could be used in their research and forsaken over the course of the next few years, the security leaving her to rot away in her sealed cell as the researchers abandoned her for the projects that held the greatest potential and prospects for them to explore, all of the Arklay staff forgetting her very existence as they followed Spencer's strict demands for further development of the Tyrant-class BOWs and resolving the obstacles that had appeared in the Tyrant Project to hinder overall productivity, specifically the lack of suitable hosts and the necrotic effects of the T-Virus degrading their brains to a level that left them incapable of understanding orders issued to them by the higher-ups.

Yet again though, as the problematic issues concerning the development of the Tyrant Project prevented them from proceeding any further without any possible solutions in sight and all research in every Umbrella facility associated with the production of BOWs ground to a indefinite halt, Lisa's presence began to return to the Arklay staff with the suggestion of Wesker and Birkin's new experimental idea to use her in a study to determine a suitable solution using an NE-Alpha parasite from Umbrella's European Division by applying the organism directly into her body and observing the results of the administration brought on by the parasite's presence; after all, without any worthwhile suggestions being put forward for analysis and all BOW research effectively hindered to a point that all progress stopped due to the overwhelming delays in the Tyrant Project, things were desperate at the time and any notable experiment put forward was at least worth exploring to determine if anything useful could be derived from it and, even if it ended in failure and Lisa died, no one would shed tears over it since she was hardly a necessity to them to begin with.

And then came the crucial turning point that split the paths in Wesker and Birkin's career within Umbrella's employment, placing upon them a selection of choices for them to take that would inevitably send them on an altogether unknown situation; the discovery of the G-Virus. Wesker knew that, although he was prepared to leave behind his position as a researcher to seek a more prosperous choice of career application within Umbrella's vast power-base in order to prove that he wasn't becoming something of a liability to them, in addition to his desires to uncover what it was that Spencer was truly after from all that Umbrella was doing, it was the G-Virus that was the deciding influential factor in his transfer to the Information Department because he had been involved with every aspect of Umbrella's research on the T-Virus since his arrival at Arklay and possessed information on all of their BOW projects that rivaled the extent which Birkin knew, but he had noticed the limitations of his abilities as a researcher long beforehand and the G-Virus was something that went beyond his level of expertise.

Thus, at the center of all the twists and turns in their careers, the different measurements of paces and steps taken to achieve what they had in their research that led them to where they were in the present date, and despite what the board, the researchers, Birkin or even himself may believe, Lisa was the one most responsible in advancing their research to its current level of progress. If she hadn't been abducted all those years ago and used in the series of horrific experiments with all the variant strains of the Progenitor Virus that turned her into the monster he knew all too well, if she hadn't been used as a guinea pig for all those years with every single viral strain Umbrella's scientists had developed and left in confinement for the endless decades of agony and hellish nightmares, then the G-Virus would never have been discovered, the experiment with the Nemesis parasite wouldn't have happened, leaving both Wesker and Birkin in completely different situations than the ones they found themselves in, leading altogether different paths within Umbrella's enterprise and their research would inevitably follow an entirely different venture of scientific exploration, branching away from what they had essentially accomplished on their present date

_Just how far will this go? How far does Spencer plan on taking this?_

Although he had constantly pondered over these issues time and time again long ago, and was still attempting to uncover the seeds of doubt that were embedded in his mind from what he had already uncovered, Wesker found his mind wandering again towards the last remaining founder of Umbrella Incorporated, Lord Oswell E. Spencer, and to his ever-allusive motivations behind the intricate conspiracies, suspicious behaviour, relentless demands, horrendous activities and horrific monsters hidden away in Umbrella's dark monolith of power, aspiring an endless menagerie of cloak-and-dagger, one which Spencer seemed obligated to maintain in his persistent desires to achieve whatever goals and aspirations he held in regards to this incredibly dangerous game of chess, as Marcus would probably have seen it in his own eyes.

When the lift settled against the edge of the stone staircase hidden inside the shaft of the fountain near the heliport, Wesker stepped out of the small elevator as the doors slid aside on their rails and walked up the wet steps to the courtyard above, his boots splashing in the large puddles that accumulated on the steps, threatening to slip out from under him on his way up to the top of the short staircase and out into the summer landscape of Raccoon Forest, his eyes squinting slightly at the harsh of sunlight as he stepped out into the open courtyard, despite the dark lenses of his sunglasses protecting them, his skin stroked by the soft breeze blowing the lush woodland environment, carrying with it an array of natural smells and sounds associated with the large habitats of animals and plant-life. Wesker stood for a few fleeting moments on the cobble stone path, taking in another deep breath of fresh air, immersing in the peaceful serenity surrounding in contrast to the horrors that lay beneath his feet, all thoughts of Spencer and his obscure motivations pushed aside as a warm sense of relief overcame him; he stayed in that same spot for some time, enjoying the rather short intervals of peace he had away from the grandiose evil Umbrella was conducting behind closed doors, but as always his time was a scarcity for his own use when under strict orders or commands from those further up the hierarchy in the corporation and he turned towards the small shed nestled by the large metal doors that were used by the maintenance staff to access the heliport when the lift was malfunctioning, where the small elevator that led to the altar room connecting to the main hall was installed. Although Wesker had indeed used the passage to travel quickly between the lab and estate, he was consistently unnerved by the ominous chamber, the eerie atmosphere and thick coat of fog glowing in the light provided by burning torches held in brackets on the walls were unnerving to say the least, and the large stone coffin, withered with age yet unmarked by human hands, lying on the ledge that hung over the bottomless pit shrouded in darkness inciting his fear to what may lurk within the chain lid, and would have preferred to take a different route to the mansion rather than that particular passage.

After he suppressed whatever anxiety or distaste he had for the part of the mansion's design he wished to avoid, Wesker walked towards the shed, intent on taking the elevator down into the passage and passing it through quickly to the mansion, since he would rather not spend any unwanted down in that crypt-like chamber with whatever was sealed away in the stone coffin, where he would find the Laboratory Manager and outline the details of the disposal procedure regarding Lisa to him in the event transportation proves inaccessible-

-when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement near the line of trees surrounding the mansion, the silhouette of what looked to be a person walking away through a patch of long grass towards the trees. Wesker stopped in his tracks and turned to face the silhouette, walking closer to the knee-high stone railing that ran around the courtyard to get a clearer picture of the silhouette and saw-

-Miss Ada Wong walking through a patch of long grass in the direction of the trees away from the mansion, carrying something quite small and light in one slender hand whilst she brushed aside annoying strands of grass with the other, the distance between them making it hard to make out what it was, her lab coat missing since she probably dunked it away inside her quarters, her short black hair flowing behind in the breeze, her stride brimming with an aura of confidence and her hips rolling smoothly with each step as she headed into the woods.

Leaning against the railing and straightening his sunglasses, Wesker quietly watched her stroll away to the edge of the vast forest surrounding them, regarding her with a stern gaze as she passed through the long grass and between two trees at the line bordering between the mansion grounds and the woods into the shadows cast by the trees, his eyes following her on her walk through the canopy of leaves and branches, short rays of sunshine flashing over her as she passed through them and back into the shade of the woodland until she disappeared behind two oak trees, her silhouette fading away into the shade and the only signs of movement coming from the trees branches covered in healthy green leaves swaying in the breeze.

_Speaking of cloak-and-dagger conspiracies, I think it's time I find out what Miss Wong is after whilst I am still here._

When Ada Wong disappeared from sight, Wesker placed his hand on top of the stone railing and, pushing all of his weight down into the palm of his hand, vaulted himself over the railing, landing comfortably on the other side, strands of grass crackling under his boots and small twigs snapping in half from the impact, then he walked over to the tree line where he had seen Ada disappear into, following the same path she had taken when he watched her from the courtyard, ignoring the large strands of long grass brushing against him as passed through the patch towards the trees.

However, he immediately ducked behind the trunk of a fairly large oak tree once he drew closer to the edge of the forest, edging his head around to glance into the maze of bark, mud and plants, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of Miss Wong and the slightest hint of movement nearby amongst the foliage. From their first encounter, Wesker had known that she was not who she made herself out to be and that she did possess some rather unique skills to be found in a researcher, especially for one that was working on something as dangerous as the T-Virus, which was why he had grown suspicion of her to begin with and the more he considered the many points that separated her from the rest of the staff, such as her behavior, her conversational abilities, her attire and her overall persona, the more his mind compelled him to reason that she was neither a researcher by trade nor on Umbrella's payroll, instead marking her off a professional in a more enigmatic commodity whom was employed by an unknown source, most likely one of Umbrella's many competitors.

Hence why Wesker opted to use a degree of caution and stealth in his pursuit of Miss Wong through the woods because, although she may not have known that he had been watching her from the courtyard when she made her way into the woods, he had not noticed any indication that either proved she was unaware he was watching or that she was aware of his observation, thus he decided to proceed carefully into the woods to ensure that he was ready to act in case she had double-backed to ambush him in the woods.

Spotting no signs of Miss Wong near any of the trees around him, Wesker stepped out from behind the tree and entered the forest, keeping his footsteps light on the ground as he walked, taking slow measured steps, sticking to the trees for cover to hide behind if he spotted her and casting occasional glances to what lay on the ground in his path, so as not to make any noise that would alert Ada to his presence.

It was time to resolve one of the many intricate threads of mystery in the ever-building menagerie of conspiracy that Spencer seemed to enjoy...

**Hey everyone!! I am REALLY SORRY this has taken so LONG that you had to wait months to read this part!! Since the backstory is now drawing to its conclusion, I am attempting to summarize, elaborate and decipher all the details for you all here and in the next few chapters to explain everything that is going to appear in the future of the RE timeline and establish the bases involved in the next parts of the RE history, especially when concerning the game scenarios involving the outbreaks.**

**Again, I hope that everyone is in character and that all the details are easy to understand, considering how long it has taken and what I have been required to cover in this chapter on Umbrella's research. Also, since this is first introducing Ada Wong, our favourite femme fatale into the story, I want to ensure that she is EXACTLY as she is portrayed in the games! So I hope that she is as she is seen in-game and that I have caught her character efficiently in this chapter.**

**Anyway, once again, I hope you enjoy this chapter and I am humbly grateful for your patience in waiting for me to post in my incredibly-GRUELLING pace to put the new chapters up! And, if anyone spots any faults whatsoever in this chapter, on anything they find in here, please send a note of it in a review and I'll take care of it.**

**Thanks again and have a great summer!!**


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